


I Was a Heavy Heart to Carry (But He Never Let Me Down)

by NeroAnne



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy is a sick mofo but not right away, Drug Use, Jonathan is just my guy and he deserves all the hugs, Joyce and Will also need many hugs, M/M, Mental Illness, More tags coming, Smut, Steve is concerned and all of a sudden feeling stuff for Jonathan, Violence, a lot of it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2019-10-30 16:44:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17832320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeroAnne/pseuds/NeroAnne
Summary: “Why the sudden interest anyway, Harrington?” Jonathan continued, pacing in front of the swings. His voice was getting louder. His hands were beginning to move as he spoke. He was being entirely too defensive. “Why do you all of a suddennoticeor evencareabout how I’m acting?” he turned, a bitter and uncomfortably diluted look on his face, “I mean, it’s not like we’re friends.”Although entirely true, the words didn’t settle well in Steve’s stomach.“Damn it,” he muttered, shaking his head, “I know, okay?” he inhaled deeply and then pinched the bridge of his nose, “I know that we aren’t friends and I know that I’m partially to blame for that but I’m trying here, man.” He leveled Jonathan with a serious look, “You have people worried about you, Byers. I’m not above admitting that I’m one of them.”-Or-After Joyce loses her job due to her mental illness, Jonathan has to step up and work harder than ever to provide for his family. The bruises from his new job causes alarm from everyone, including the one person in the world who he never really expected it from.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, this is exactly what I needed. Another fic when I have like 2 other unfinished ones haha. Jonathan ain't a stripper or a hoe, calm down.

School had been over for about an hour and a half. Most of the student body was gone, some stragglers were left behind, just now leaving their after-school programs and clubs and the like. Nancy Wheeler had been picked up by her mother about twenty minutes ago, her debate club having ended early. 

Steve had stayed behind after school for his baseball practice but it was also cut short when Morgan Addams had pitched a ball so hard that he damn near dislocated his shoulder. Coach called it and the team had shuffled to the showers. After his rinse, he had waited with Nancy for her mom and now that she was gone, he was making his way to his BMW, his gym bag slung over his shoulder and his damp hair trickling water into the collar of his plain white tee. 

He had just shoved his bag into his trunk when movement from a couple of feet ahead of him gave him pause. Steve had caught sight of the short male standing in front of the Ford. He stared, his heart lurching a bit in his chest, as the enigmatic loner leaned heavily onto the hood of his beater LTD, folding his arms and lowering his head on top of them. Steve watched the way his shoulders had been quaking just a little bit and knew that he couldn’t just leave him there. 

Without thinking too much about anything, he allowed his feet to carry him towards the other man.

“Hey,” Steve greeted quietly, smiling as the chestnut blonde head rose and with it, a confused-and weary- narrowed eyed stare. “How have you been? How’s your brother?” he slipped his hands into his denim pockets, keeping the easy smile on his face even as the younger male frowned up at him. 

Jonathan Byers simply stared at him for a few seconds before he straightened. Some part of his body popped audibly and he grimaced, pain reflecting in his features. He ran his thumb over an eyebrow, irritated. 

“Will is fine.” The answer was clipped, the tone flat. 

Steve nodded, “And you?”

Jonathan scoffed but didn’t reply. It gave Steve enough time to observe him a bit more. Byers looked like he hadn’t been sleeping well. He always had dark circles around his eyes but the edges were beginning to dot with red. 

The black tee he was wearing underneath his navy-colored jacket was wrinkled, the hem of it half tucked into his baggy jeans. He looked worn, exhausted, _sad_. He was carrying himself sort of stiffly, too. Like he was trying not to lean a certain way.

Steve blinked. 

_“Did you hear?” Nancy’s voice was soft, melancholy. She had been sitting across from him at the diner, and the hostess who had sat them down at the booth had just left._

_Steve glanced up from the menu, where the picture of Cajun pasta had caught his attention, and raised a brow at her. “Hear what?”_

_“Jonathan’s mom,” Nancy whispered, glancing around the diner, “She…she got laid off. I was with my mom running an errand at the store and she and Mr. Melvald got to talking. He said she’s been having a lot of anxiety attacks during work and he…he can’t keep her.”_

_Steve frowned, dropping the menu entirely, “That’s awful,” he murmured, thinking back to the last time he had seen the woman. He had stopped by Melvald’s General Store a few weeks ago to grab an icepack and some mints. He didn’t often shop there, seeing as their competitor store had a lot more variety, but it was on his way to his destination. Joyce had rung him out, but she did it without smiling. She didn’t even greet him. Her hair was a mess, her eyes bloodshot and her voice hollow as she read him his price and dismissed him with a dull wave._

_“I overheard Will talking with Mike and the other boys,” Nancy continued, lowering her eyes to the table, “Will was telling them about how he doesn’t see Jonathan much anymore…how he’s always working. He still works his usual shifts at the theater but he started working weekends somewhere else. Will says that he isn’t telling anyone where.”_

_“Jesus,” Steve muttered, eyebrows furrowing, “What the hell is he going to do about school?”_

_Before Nancy could answer, a waiter came up to their table, smiling cheerfully and asked if they were waiting to order._

Jonathan was giving him an odd look. 

“I’m sorry, what was the question?” he asked and he felt like kicking himself in the ass when Jonathan merely lifted an eyebrow. _He_ was the one who had asked the question, one that Jonathan clearly had no intention of answering.

“There wasn’t one.” He crossed his arms, rocking back and forth a little on his heels. It was kind of endearing. He looked childish, almost. 

“Right,” Steve muttered, sweeping a hand through his hair. He had no clue what to do at this point. He didn’t really think this through. What could he possibly say to the younger man? “Do you want to drive around and maybe go get high?”

Okay, that probably wasn’t the most eloquent approach. 

Jonathan blinked owlishly at him. He considered him for a moment and Steve was confused as to _why_ he was so hopeful for the smaller man to say _yes_ and his heart lit up when Jonathan sighed, shrugging, “What the hell,” he murmured, more to himself than anything, and then inclined his head at Steve. 

\--

Jonathan had fallen asleep. 

Some point during arguing about what music to listen to, (It’s _my_ car, Byers!) the blonde had simply huffed (Well your taste is _shit_ , Harrington.) and leaned the seat back. 

Steve had been talking about remodeling his car for a solid three and half minutes before he realized that Jonathan wasn’t even awake. He parked behind an empty playground and fiddled with his radio. There was no way in hell he wasn’t going to listen to what he wanted to if Jonathan was clocked out anyway.

A steady and upbeat tune rang out in the car and Steve snickered as Jonathan jolted up, surprised. “Morning, sunshine,” he teased, barking out a laugh as Jonathan stared at his radio as if it personally insulted him. In the quiet space around them, the timbre of _Call Me_ rang out melodically.

“Is this-” Jonathan’s voice was raspy and he coughed, a wince on his face as he leaned the seat back up, “Is this _Blondie_?” he turned a disbelieving frown to Steve and he couldn’t stop his wide grin. 

“Oh, come on, Byers,” Steve said cheerfully, humming along to the song, “How could you not love this song? It’s so catchy!”

Jonathan groaned, rubbing his tired eyes and Steve felt bad. 

“Sorry,” he said, ducking his head at Jonathan’s questioning glance, “I shouldn’t have woken you up.”

“Wasn’t you so much as that screeching harpy,” Jonathan mumbled, smacking his lips. He looked out the window, a surprised little hum escaping his throat. “Hey, look. Swings.”

Steve followed the younger man as he got out of the car, ducking back into his car momentarily to grab his keys and the jacket containing his blunts, lighter, and cigarettes. He walked over to the swings, where Jonathan had claimed the one on the left, and sat down. 

Jonathan swung himself slowly, not really exerting force. The toes of his chucks pushed lightly at the grass and the wind ruffled at his hair. It was beginning to get grey out, the sun setting low and hiding behind darkish clouds. 

Steve busied himself with lighting the blunt. He took a drag, holding it for a beat before exhaling and passing it over to Jonathan, who took it in between two fingers. Steve watched him, noticing the way his eyes squinted with pain as he inhaled deeply. 

“You okay?” he asked, watching the way Jonathan blew out little smoke rings. He followed one for about as far as he could before it disappeared and he looked back to the blonde, who murmured something. “Huh?”

“I don’t know.” Jonathan repeated, quiet and careful, “I really don’t...know.” He took a shuddering breath and Steve was mortified to see a tear slip down Jonathan’s pale cheek before the younger boy brushed it away, taking another deep pull of the blunt before handing it back. 

Steve didn’t know what to say. He took back the blunt, popping it back in between his lips. It was a bit damp from Jonathan’s mouth, and he brushed his tongue over it, chasing the wetness. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Jonathan muttered. “I don’t.”

“Okay.”

They passed the blunt back and forth until it was done and swung lazily on their swings. After they had finished the blunt, and after several moments of silence, Steve offered to light up another one. 

Jonathan shook his head, eyes closed as he tilted his temple against the chain, “I’m high already,” he said softly, “Don’t need another.” His words were slower and even more quiet than usual. 

“Okay.” Steve stood, making his way behind Jonathan, “How about a push then?” he reached out, his fingers brushed against Jonathan’s hands from where he was gripping the chains, and he closed his hands above the smaller boy’s, gripping the chains and pulling. 

“What are you-” Jonathan startled, gripping the chains tighter, and Steve laughed. 

“Remember to pump your legs back and forth, otherwise you won’t go anywhere.”

“I know how to swing, Harrington,” Jonathan bit back.

“Good.” Steve pushed, smiling to himself when Jonathan laughed a bit. He moved his hands down to Jonathan’s lower back and pressed, standing back a little as the blonde’s legs finally began to move back and forth. 

After he had given the younger man enough momentum, Steve moved in front of the swing and leaned against swing frame, the upright pole digging uncomfortably into his deltoid, and stared at Jonathan, find the smile on the other man’s face rather lovely. “So,” he started casually, watching the way Jonathan’s pumping legs began to slow, “How’s work?”

“Stimulating,” Jonathan answered, the sarcastic reply not lost, “Working at _The Hawk_ is great on weeknights. No one is there and I get to have all the fun in the world standing at a podium for eight hours just staring at the concession guy juggle empty popcorn buckets.”

“Sounds like a good time,” Steve replied mildly, thinking hard about how to lead into his next question. “So, um…” he licked his dry lips, staring up at the dark sky for a few seconds before finally asking, “What’s been going on with you lately?”

Jonathan’s heels dug into the ground. He stared at Steve, letting his hands uncurl from the chains, and crossed his arms, “What do you mean?” he sounded annoyed. 

“You know,” Steve shrugged, feeling out of place, “You’re being…” Damn it. Now he didn’t even have the words to express what he wanted to say. What _did_ he want to say? He wasn’t even sure. All he knew was that something was up with Jonathan Byers. 

“I’m being what?” Jonathan snapped, “ _Weird?_ That’s hardly news, Harrington. You’ve been coining that term for me since you met me.” Irritated now, he stood up from the swing. 

Steve watching him, surprised with how upset Jonathan looked. “Hey, look-”

“Why the sudden interest anyway, Harrington?” Jonathan continued, pacing in front of the swings. His voice was getting louder. His hands were beginning to move as he spoke. He was being entirely too defensive. “Why do you all of a sudden _notice_ or even _care_ about how I’m acting?” he turned, a bitter and uncomfortably diluted look on his face, “I mean, it’s not like we’re friends.”

Although entirely true, the words didn’t settle well in Steve’s stomach. 

“Damn it,” he muttered, shaking his head, “I know, okay?” he inhaled deeply and then pinched the bridge of his nose, “I know that we aren’t friends and I know that I’m partially to blame for that but I’m trying here, man.” He leveled Jonathan with a serious look, “You have people worried about you, Byers. I’m not above admitting that I’m one of them.”

Jonathan didn’t look too thrilled with the news. “Who is worrying about me?” when Steve hesitated, Jonathan softened his tone, “Is…has my brother said anything? My mom?”

“I heard it from Nancy,” Steve confessed, and Jonathan sighed, “She overheard her brother and the rest of the goonies talking. Your brother misses you. Nancy heard him tell everyone that you have some new job now.”

“Tell her I’m fine,” Jonathan brushed the hair away from his face, “I’ll touch up with her soon. Or, I’ll try to.” 

“Right,” Steve said, unconvinced. 

Jonathan turned away from him, staring up at the sky, “Let’s go,” he murmured, “Drive me back to school. I don’t want to be late for work later and I still have to get home to shower.”

The drive back to school was quiet and Steve didn’t fight this time when Jonathan switched the station to some sad-sounded symphonic metal song. He parked beside the beater, looking over at Jonathan as the passenger door swung open. “Jonathan.”

The blonde paused, one leg already out of the car. He turned to Steve, surprised at having heard the use of his first name. “Yeah?” he whispered and Steve offered him a tentative smile. 

“I don’t want to pretend like the bit of fun we had today didn’t happen. I want to try and be friends and I’m probably going to be really bad at it at first but…I really want to try.”

Jonathan nodded, looking unsure, “Okay.” Before he could get out of the car, Steve leaned over, grabbing onto his shirt sleeve, “Jesus, _what_ Harrington?”

“If you need anything,” Steve started, “Help or a listening ear or something,” he smiled a bit, “Well, I’ve been told by a pretty smart twelve year old that I’m an okay guy to talk to.”

Jonathan stared at him silently and Steve winked playfully. 

His cheeks coloring, Jonathan huffed, “I’ll keep that in mind.” He climbed out of the car, pausing to look in at him. “Thanks, Steve.” He said softly, turning away. 

Steve watched him hop into the Ford, his heart still doing a funny little dance as he remembered the way his first name sounded on the blonde’s lips.

\--

“Jonathan!”

The feeling of Will’s skinny arms wrapping around his waist brought an immediate smile to his face and a warmth to his body. His ribs aches a bit but he didn’t focus on it, choosing instead to bask in the fuzzy feeling of love he felt whenever his baby brother embrace him. “Hi,” he wrapped an arm around Will, stroking the smaller boy’s back.

“I didn’t think I would get to see you tonight,” Will admitted, pulling back to look at Jonathan, “You’re usually already gone on Friday nights.”

“Yeah, I’ll be leaving in a little while. Just came home to shower and change.” He frowned when Will ducked his head. “Sorry, Will. But I have to go. Now that I’m…” he let his voice trail off as their mother came into view, staring at him as if he were a stranger. She looked tired, stressed. “Mom.”

“Jonathan?” she whispered, her hand reaching out for him. “Oh, my boy,” she moved for him and he caught her as she lunged forward to hug him, stumbling a few steps back from her intensity. Poor Will cried out as he was caught in the middle, stuck between their bodies. 

Jonathan exhaled a shaky breath, burying his face into hair, “Mom, it’s okay-”

“I’m so sorry,” she choked, caught in a sob and a whisper, “I’m so sorry, Jonathan. You shouldn’t have to…to work so hard just because I’m a failure.”

“Don’t,” Jonathan whispered fiercely, hugging her tighter. “ _Don’t_ ever say that. You’re not a failure, mom.” He felt Will sniffling into his shirt and he wanted to cry himself. “Mom,” he pulled back, staring down into her watery eyes, “We will be fine, mom. I promise.” He reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. He grabbed the wad of cash, pushing it into her hands, “Here, this will…this will help a little bit, won’t it?”

Joyce stared at the money, stunned, “Jonathan, where…where did you get this kind of money?” she looked up at him and he ducked his head, avoiding her gaze. 

“The new job,” he told her, patting Will’s head, “It pays really well.” He left it at that, turning away. “Need to shower.”

Will was waiting in his room after he came out of the bathroom. Jonathan had just turned on the light and he jumped in surprise, staring at his younger brother, who was sitting on the bed. “Will, Jesus,” he laughed a bit, tightening the towel around his waist, “You scared me, buddy.”

But Will wasn’t laughing. He stared at Jonathan, his eyes wide. 

_Fuck._ Jonathan glanced down at his sternum. The bruises were finally beginning to fade except for the dark one below his second rib. It still hurt like a bitch to be touched and sometimes when he took a heavy breath, his sides protested the action, but it felt a lot better now that a few days had passed. 

“What happened?” Will asked, concern evident in his voice and Jonathan glanced out into the hall. Seeing that his mother was nowhere in sight, he quickly shut the door and made his way over to his closet. Grabbing a long-sleeved shirt, he tugged it on, brushing his damp fringe away from his eyes. 

“It’s nothing, Will,” he lied, doing his best to not turn around to look at his baby brother, “The new job has me lifting some heavy stuff…I guess I kinda banged myself up a bit.” He dropped the towel, thankful that he had the foresight to take his clean pair of boxers in the bathroom and put them on before coming into his room. 

“That’s what the job is?” Will was skeptical. “Lifting heavy stuff up at night?”

Jonathan turned around to look at him. Will’s eyes were knowing and he was staring at Jonathan with a sad smile on his face and Jonathan smiled back, wan and tired, “No wonder they call you _Will the Wise_ ,” he murmured, moving to sit down beside his brother. 

Sighing, he shook his head, “I can’t tell you, Will.” He said honestly, “This job isn’t very…it’s not a good one. I’m not proud of it. But it’s going to make us a lot of money. Mom isn’t well and you need your medication…I’m…” he swallowed hard, pressing his thumb to his eyelid, “I just want you both to be okay. That’s all.”

Will didn’t say anything for a while. “Jonathan,” he began, voice small, “Maybe I can get a paper route or-”

“No.”

“But-”

“I said _no_ , Will,” Jonathan snapped, his heart breaking when Will flinched. “I’m sorry,” he said immediately, wrapping an arm around Will and bringing him close. He felt Will’s head drop down to rest on his shoulder, “I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to worry about it. I’ve got this, Will. I can do this. You just…you worry about being a kid, okay? I’ll take care of everything else.”

“But Jonathan,” Will whispered, “You can’t do this alone.”

_What choice do I have?_ Jonathan thought but he smiled, pulling back to stare at Will. “Don’t worry about it, bud. I promise, things will get easier for us.” He licked his lips, glancing down at his watch. “I’m going to be late but how about next weekend we all hang out? We’ll go watch a movie or something. The three of us.”

“You mean it?” Will asked, face lighting up in hope and Jonathan smiled. 

“I mean it. We can go wherever you want.”

“Okay,” Will nodded, reaching out to hug Jonathan one last time. “Do you think you can drive me to Steve’s house tomorrow? Around noon?”

“Steve?” Jonathan tilted his head, “Why are you going to Steve’s?”

“Dustin convinced him to let us use his pool,” Will answered, “Mom already said I could go. I think she said that Mrs. Wheeler was going to come over for a while too.”

“Oh, okay. Sure,” Jonathan grabbed a pair of jeans, tugging them on, “Yeah. I’ll drive you.”

“Thanks,” before he left, Will lingered near the door. “Hey, Jonathan?”

“Yeah?” Jonathan grabbed his keys, staring at his brother patiently. 

“Be careful,” Will said, “Please be careful. I love you.”

Jonathan swallowed, “I love you too, Will. I’ll be careful.”

_I’ll be careful._

\--

“Didn’t think you were going to show.”

They were just outside of Hawkins, on the outskirts of the town. In the back of an abandoned hospital, several cars were lined up, hidden behind the tall building. The models were fancy, pristine and worth more than Jonathan could ever hope to ponder. 

He had crept in through the back, giving the man guarding the door the name and number that would grant him access, and spread his arms and legs, allowing himself to be checked before crossing over to the stairs leading to the hospital basement, which at one time might have housed the bodies of those long gone.

After seeing the familiar man in the crowd of people, Jonathan had made his way over to him, pausing long enough for the large men that had formed a protective circle around the man to come over and check him, before he stood at his side.

Jonathan shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets. A few feet away, several people were beginning to set up the ring. He watched an overweight, balding man begin to draw a circle in the ground with white chalk, wheezing every time he bent over. “Needed the money.” He said, turning to the man at his side. 

He was tall, with dark hair that he wore slicked back, and dressed elegantly. A three-piece suit, immaculate and steamed neatly, tailored to his slender form. He had introduced himself as “Connor” when they’d met. Jonathan doubted that was his real name. His grey eyes looked at Jonathan with interest, “You’ve recovered from last week? No one wants to see a one-sided fight.”

Jonathan frowned. “I’m fine.” A thought occurred to him. “That guy from last week,” he brought up, “Is he…is he okay? He didn’t get up afterwards.”

Connor smiled at him. “You won the fight and you’re still concerned about the loser,” he shook his head, “One would say you are too pure for this sort of activity, Jay-bird.”

The nickname made Jonathan grimace. He had never told the people he was “working” for his real name. _Jay_ was the only thing he could think of when he was put on the spot, dozens of eyes trained on him all at once. 

“I was just curious,” Jonathan mumbled, lifting his arms when a woman in a short skirt came his way. She gripped the hem of his shirt, tugging it off and Jonathan held his fists out, the sound of tape tearing echoing in his ears. “He got me good a few times.”

“He did.” Connor sounded amused. “I notice how you kept protecting your face but you left your body completely exposed. Your face is lovely, that much is true, but if you keep letting people get you with body shots, you’re going to become worn very quickly.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jonathan watched the woman begin to tape up his knuckles. She looked strung out, her painted lips bruised and no amount of make-up could hide the black around her eye. “Thank you,” he said to her, looking away from the surprise in her eyes. 

It was likely to be the only kindness she would get from anyone for a long time.

Jonathan flinched when hands settled on his shoulders, thumbs pressing into knots that had built up. They pressed hard and he swallowed, staring as the crowd began to surround the ring. They stayed a good few feet away from the white line.

_“To avoid blood,” Connor had told him a few weeks ago. “They don’t want their expensive clothing stained.”_

Of course. 

“How do you feel?” Connor asked, his voice far too close to Jonathan’s ear for comfort. “The kid tonight is from Gary. You know how nasty that place can be. Keep your hands up.”

“Sure.” Jonathan mumbled, shaking away from the man’s hold. He rocked on the heels of his feet, watching as across from him, another man in an expensive looking suit pulled a boy around his age to the ring. 

The _kid_ was huge. He was at least a foot taller than Jonathan and he was built stocky. His chest was also bare, but unlike Jonathan, he was ripped with muscles and veiny as hell. Steroids. 

For a brief moment, Jonathan felt bad. The kid had probably been in this game a lot longer than Jonathan, and he was probably pumped full of the damn juice daily, to ensure that could lift the weights necessary to be able to toss people like him around. 

“ _This_ is who I’m fighting?” the kid said and his deep voice was humored. “This skinny little bitch?” he turned to the crowd, hamming it up, and the man at his side chuckled along with the rich people around them. “Are you kidding me?”

Any sympathy Jonathan had ended as soon as the people began to laugh. 

“You may want to look into doing something else, boy!” the other guy sneered, pounding a fist into his palm, “Tell you what,” he reached down, groping himself suggestively, “You have a nice mouth. Why don’t you come over here and use that on me and I’ll make sure you get paid just as much as you would have earned during the fight.”

Laughter rang in his ears and Jonathan clenched his taped fists. He stepped into the makeshift ring, bringing his hands up to either side of his face. 

“No?” the other one said, eyebrows raised, “All right.” He stepped into the ring, his own taped hands coming up, “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He smiled nastily, “It’ll be a real shame to ruin such a pretty face.”

Jonathan didn’t reply. He waited until he heard the clinging of a bell somewhere behind him and he moved. 

\--


	2. Chapter 2

“I must admit, I am surprised, Jay.” Connor said, counting the bills in his hands. He was grinning, which Jonathan supposed was a good thing, and his grey eyes were narrowed as he focused on the money. “This one didn’t even touch you. You’re a rather skilled fighter, are you trained?”

_Sure. If you count learning to fight from defending my mother and younger brother from my father’s abuse “training”, then of course I was trained. Classically trained._ Rolling his eyes at his own thoughts, Jonathan nibbled on the apple he had picked from the basket on the table. 

“I just don’t like being teased,” Jonathan replied, looking around the bare room. They were deep in Indiana, a whole three hours away from Hawkins. He didn’t know where exactly he was seeing as the limo that drove them to the estate had blacked out windows, but he estimated he was somewhere in the rich area, most likely Boone County.

The first time he had accepted accompanying the man to the house, Jonathan was sure that he would never make it out alive. What the hell had he been thinking? Getting into a car with a damn stranger who he had met after work and who offered to “give him a chance to make real money”? What had happened to all the lessons he had learned from his mother when he was a child?

Out the window as soon as some guy in a nice suit offered him a _job_.

_It’s a wonder I haven’t been slaughtered._

Located here was Connor’s safe house. It was a damn mansion that he only used for convenience. It was laughable. The _floors_ in this place were probably worth more than his home in Hawkins. 

The grey colored walls were empty. It was a shame, really. They would look beautiful and alive with good photographs. 

Jonathan glanced towards the door at a knock. When Connor grunted, it swung open, revealing a lanky ginger with ruddy blue eyes. Completely ignoring Jonathan, the newcomer turned to Connor, who looked at him expectantly.

“Have you had any luck?” Connor asked and the ginger haired man shook his head in a negative and Connor frowned, displeased. 

Jonathan watched the ginger step back out and then glanced down at his watch. Shit. It was past one am already. He glanced at Connor, watching him continue to count. “Any chance we can speed this up? I have a promise to keep tomorrow and if I’m going to keep it then I have to get sleep at some point.”

“Mm,” Connor hummed. He counted out several bills and held them out. “About 200 more than last time. You did well to not get injured; you’ll be able to fight again Sunday night.”

Jonathan grabbed the dirty money, trying hard not to feel a certain way about it. He tucked it into his pocket, standing up and bringing the apple back up to his lips as he looked around.

“Did you have a question?”

Furrowing his brows, he looked to the man, who was now bringing a glass full of red wine up to his lips, staring at him. 

“You are too fancy for Indiana, even out here in Boone,” Jonathan pointed out, noticing the wry grin on the man’s lips at his words. “Where did you come from?”

“Los Angeles, originally.” Connor replied after taking a sip, “I had a fighter there. Super quick, very strong. I tell you, he’s never been hit hard enough to keep him down. He was with me a full year, fought over a hundred fights,” Connor smirked, “Never lost a single one.”

Jonathan mulled over the information. He couldn’t imagine doing this sort of work for over a year. “What was his name?” He asked, taking another bite from the apple. 

Connor chuckled, “He said it was Jeremy LaSalle. He was lying, obviously. After he got caught, his daddy pulled some strings and they were able to move to that little shithole you call Hawkins. I found out who he was after getting some intel on his father and seeing as he made me a lot of money,” he gripped his glass hard, causing Jonathan’s throat to dry when he noticed the dark look that suddenly crossed the man’s features, “I just knew I had to get him back. That’s why I’m here.”

Clearing his throat, Jonathan focused on the fruit in his hand. 

“You’re extremely good, Jay,” Connor murmured and Jonathan felt his abdomen clench painfully at the almost tender voice the man used, “I want to keep you. I am hoping that once I find Jeremy that he can teach you to not be so…” Connor stared at him and Jonathan stared straight back. “Careful.”

\--

It was the fingers brushing through his hair that woke him. 

Jonathan stirred, his eyes slowly blinking open. He stared up into beautiful blue eyes, framed by tight brown curls, and a small smile. He dragged a hand down his face and began to lift his arm to his face. 

“It’s just past ten. The boys don’t have to be at Steve’s until around twelve.” Nancy Wheeler told him gently, figuring that he was going to look at his wrist. She was correct in her assumption and he laughed huskily, letting his arm fall back down to his side. “I knocked on your door a few times.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, eyes fluttering closed when she leaned down. Her lips brushed against his forehead. 

She leaned back, frowning down at him. “Have you been working late?”

“Just the weekends,” he replied, slowly sitting up. Belatedly, he realized that he hadn’t tugged the blanket up to his chest and that his pale skin and fading bruises were now clearly visible to her. 

“Jonathan,” Nancy gasped, her fingers immediately coming up to touch his ribs and he flinched, “Oh, god, I’m sorry! Did that hurt?”

“Just a bit,” he hissed from clenched teeth. He grabbed her hands, gently cradling them, “Look, it’s no big deal. They’re healing.”

“Is this from the job? What on Earth are you doing?” she demanded and he chuckled. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he brushed her off, swinging his legs off his bed. He made his way to the closet, grabbing a white tee shirt, a logo for a band he didn’t really even listen to anymore advertised on the front. 

After he had pulled it on, he was met with her disapproving look. “Nancy,” he said, tired, “Please don’t. I’m providing for my family, leave it alone.”

“But, Jonathan-”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Drop it.”

“Don’t you talk to me that way, Jonathan Byers,” she snapped at him, causing him to shrink back. “I’m really worried about you. You don’t return my calls, you’re falling asleep in class, and now your body looks like a punching bag. Tell me what you’re doing.”

Jonathan had knocked down people that dwarfed him in height and here he was, intimidated by a five foot four girl. Nancy Wheeler was a force to be reckoned with.

That didn’t mean he would tell her, though. 

He racked his brain. “…I’m helping a friend of Mo’s some nights with his construction.” Mo was the owner of the theater. “They get a lot of the heavy lifting out of the way during the night so that they have more hours to burn in the day to actually work. I just load up all their gear for them, sometimes the equipment fights back.”

The lie worked, and with a sigh, Nancy shook her head, “Well, you should tell them that you do need to sleep sometime, Jonathan. You don’t want your grades to begin to slip.”

“Right,” Jonathan agreed, making his way towards the bathroom to brush his teeth. He could hear Mrs. Wheeler talking to his mother in the living room. Will was probably in his room with Mike. “Do me favor?” he turned to Nancy, who nodded, “Use the phone to call Hopper. I don’t mind stopping to pick up Eleven if he has to patrol.”

“Sure.” She replied, walking down the hall towards the living room. 

Shutting the bathroom door, Jonathan stared into the mirror. When had lying to the people he cared about become so easy? His lips twisted into a frown as he looked at his own reflection. He was beginning to not even recognize himself. His eyes were dull, framed by circles that were only getting darker. His skin was sallow, his cheeks hollowing out. He stared at himself, glaring when he saw his image begin to distort and blur from the tears welling to his eyes. 

Frustrated, he shoved his palms into his eyes, choking back a whimper. He folded into himself, bracing his arms over the sink, turning the knob to the right to let the water rush out. He hoped it was loud enough to drown out his muffled sobs. 

\--

“That’s them!” Dustin cried out excitedly at the sound of the doorbell, flying out of the pool and making his way to the sliding glass door. 

“Hey!” Steve, who had been lounging on a pool chair just watching his charges play in the water, reached out, snagging the waistband of Dustin’s blue swim trunks, and tugged him back. “Don’t you dare run into the house all wet, you little shit! My dad would fucking disown me if you get pool water on the carpet.” 

“Well then go answer it!” Dustin demanded, “And while you’re at it, make yourself useful and grab us some soda.”

Oh, that was it. 

“You want me to be useful? How about I help you back into the pool?” Steve grabbed Dustin around the middle, smirking as the younger boy wailed, and dragged him to the edge of the pool, tossing him into the water. Lucas and Max cackled with delight when the boy resurfaced, wet curls flattened into his eyes. 

Steve ignored the insult slung at his back and slipped passed the sliding door and towards the front of the house. He smiled as he opened the door, “Great, more brats to babysit,” he said playfully, winking as Eleven and Will smiled up at him. Mike merely rolled his eyes. That one was hard to crack. “Looks like I’ve got help corralling all you little trolls, though,” he smiled at Nancy. 

She smiled back, her pretty blue sundress almost as bright as her eyes. She glanced behind her, waving. 

Steve blinked and looked past her shoulder. 

Jonathan was leaning against the side of his car, his arms crossed. He raised a hand, waving back at Nancy before nodding to Steve and making his way back around the driver side, opening the car door.

“Wait a minute, you’re leaving?! Byers, get your ass in here!” he yelled immediately, watching the way Jonathan turned his head to gaze at him questioningly. “Come on, man, you can’t leave these hellions to the mercy of just me and Nancy!”

Jonathan hesitated. 

“Don’t make me chase you, Byers,” Steve threatened, grinning widely as he stepped out of his door a little bit, “You know I’ll catch you.” He mimed stretching, turning back to wink at Eleven when she laughed.

Shaking his head, Jonathan shut the door to his car and walked over to them. He smiled down at Will when the younger boy exclaimed with delight once he saw that his older brother would be staying. 

Making their way back to the backyard, Steve stopped just in front of the glass door, closing his hand around Nancy’s wrist. At her confused frown, he lowered his head to her ear, “Get anything from him?” he pulled back to see the understanding in her gaze. 

“Yeah,” she whispered, “I found out what his job is.” 

She told him the information and he raised a brow, glancing out at Jonathan. The slender boy was standing in front of Will, spreading sun block over the young boy’s face. Will didn’t look too thrilled about it. 

Somehow, the idea of Jonathan moving heavy stuff around all night didn’t ring right in his head. Something was off. Still, he smiled at Nancy. “Great.” He said. He led her to the pool chairs and then waited until Jonathan looked their way to wave him over. 

The three watched the kids in the pool. Max, Will and Eleven had quickly teamed up against the other three boys and were more than worthy opponents, seeing as Mike and Dustin were already losing in their game of marco polo, leaving poor Lucas to pick up their slack.

Steve smirked, watching as Will swam quickly over to catch Dustin, who screeched. “Hey, Dusty! You’re just making it easier for him to catch you if you keep screaming like a girl.”

“Hey!” Max shouted at him and Steve raised his hands defensively at the glare she and Eleven aimed his way. 

Nancy was also giving him a rather dark look and he laughed nervously, “Some help here, Byers?” When the other male didn’t reply, Steve looked to the chair where the other teen was sprawled out on a pool chair. “Jonathan?”

The blonde’s eyes were closed, face tilted towards the sun. He startled when his name was called again, turning to stare at Steve. “Sorry, what?” he looked a bit out of it and his eyes looked to the pool, face relaxing when he saw that nothing was amiss.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked and Jonathan shrugged. 

“Just tired, I guess.” He dragged a hand down his face and then his arm settled over his waist. “Sun feels nice.” His cheeks were starting to look a bit pink and Steve narrowed his eyes. 

“We’re all very happy about your love affair with the sun but I think your skin doesn’t share the same joy.” Steve reached back, snagging the sunscreen bottle besides Nancy’s bare leg and stood, “Come here.”

Jonathan quickly shuffled into a seated position, “I got it,” he said, moving to grab the bottle but Steve raised his arm high above his head, smirking down at the shorter boy.

“You’ll miss a spot,” he said, popping open the cap and squirting some of the cream onto the tips of his fingers, “Now be a good boy and hold still.”

Jonathan snorted, bemused, but he lowered his eyes to the floor at the touch of the cool lotion against his forehead. “There’s a pool full of kids just a few feet away,” he reminded, “And yet you choose to mother _me_.”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t like it,” Steve replied smoothly, smirking as Jonathan pouted. “Besides, you had the opportunity to put this on when you were helping Will and Jane with theirs and didn’t. Clearly, you need someone to dote on you.” He poked Jonathan’s nose, smoothing the lotion out over his pink-tinged cheeks.

“And you think that person should be you, Harrington?”

Their eyes met and Steve’s fingers paused on Jonathan’s cheek. They considered each other for only a few seconds but in that very brief moment, time felt like it stood still. _‘He has dimples,’_ Steve realized, his thumb tracing over one of the indents, _‘How did I never notice that?’_

Grinning playfully, he winked at the younger man. “Hell, why not? You’re not much bigger than the kids I already babysit.” He laughed when Jonathan huffed, his hands dropping to his sides. “There, you can go back to frying in the sun.”

“Thank you,” Jonathan lay down on the pool chair again, only this time, he sprawled out on his stomach. He smirked at Steve’s slack-jawed look of complete indignation before laying his head on one of his arms, eyes closing. 

Nancy’s light laughter caught his attention and Steve turned to her, motioning to Jonathan with his arms and raising his eyebrows dramatically. “Do you see this? After I take care of him, he goes and does this. The unmitigated gall!”

“Spell _unmitigated_ for me, Harrington.” Jonathan said lazily and Steve laughed. 

“Got me there,” he plopped back down next to Nancy, throwing an arm around the girl’s bare shoulders. They watched the kids, Steve betting Nancy a buck that Maxine would be the sole winner in the race they were about to start. 

After a few moments, Nancy turned her head and then nudged him. 

“He fell asleep,” she whispered and Steve turned to look at Jonathan, who had indeed, knocked out. His cheek was pressed against his forearm, eyes closed and lips parted just slightly. “He should quit that overnight job.”

“Yeah,” Steve murmured. His eyes trailed over Jonathan’s arm, down to his limp wrist. He stared at Jonathan’s hand. The pale knuckles were bruised pretty badly. The middle one split open, raw and red. 

That was odd. 

_Those bruises sure don’t look like they would come from just hauling around equipment…_

\--

“Don’t forget the milk!” Joyce waved from the front door and Jonathan waved back, grocery list in his left hand as he hopped into Hopper’s truck. As soon as he shut the door, Hopper started up the engine. 

“Seat belt.” He said gruffly and Jonathan’s hand moved to the protective device, securing it around his chest and buckling it in. They pulled out into the road leading to the grocery store and Jonathan glanced at the man driving.

“I could have just gone on my own,” Jonathan told the chief, who kept his eyes on the road, “I didn’t want you to spend your Sunday running errands; you already took mom to grab Will’s meds yesterday.”

“It’s fine,” Hopper mumbled, “Eleven gets to spend time with Will and I can talk with your mother.” He glanced at Jonathan. “She tells me you have a new job.”

Jonathan shifted uneasily and looked out the window. “Um, yeah. Just trying to make sure enough money is coming in to keep the power on.”

“She doesn’t know what it is,” Hopper continued, and he sounded like he wanted to ask and Jonathan really hoped he wouldn’t. He respected Hopper. The man was kind to his mother, having known her since high school. He was good with Will. He doted on his adopted daughter. He was a great guy. 

But Jonathan didn’t need a father figure. 

“Just…” Hopper sighed, making a left to pull into the grocery store. “Just be careful, Jonathan. If you need help or something, I’m not far.”

“Right,” Jonathan said, slightly perturbed. He felt guilty. Hopper had always been kind to him, if not slightly lenient. He had caught Jonathan multiple times with pot and let it go. Never ticketed Jonathan for having a light out on his car, knowing that he was scraping up money to get it fixed. Sighing, he unbuckled his seat belt, “I’m not dealing,” he told Hopper, who stared at him with narrowed eyes, “I promise.”

“Are you street-walking?”

“Jesus Christ,” Jonathan laughed, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth. When Hopper didn’t join in, he looked over at the older man, surprised. “Oh, you were serious?”

After a few moments of tense silence, Hopper’s lips finally twitched, “Nah,” he replied and Jonathan grinned. “You’re too good for that. I know you wouldn’t do anything that extreme.” They stepped out of the car and Hopper smirked, “Besides, have you seen the Johns in Hawkins? Not worth your time.”

They walked towards the entrance, Hopper grabbing an abandoned cart and steering it into the store.

“I didn’t even know there _were_ Johns in Hawkins,” Jonathan replied, glancing down at the grocery list, “Basics. She only ever wants to get whatever is on sale. I’m going to grab her and Will a pack of those cupcakes they like so much.” He watched Hopper turn towards the frozen section.

“I’ll meet you at the checkout,” Hopper said over his shoulder, “If I go back to your place without Eggo waffles, Eleven will possibly kill me.”

“And mom will probably help. How dare you upset her princess?” Jonathan chuckled, grabbing the cart and wheeling it towards the baked goods.

Spying the cupcakes that his family adored so much, Jonathan grabbed a box, grimacing as he wondered just how much sugar was in the treats. He sat the box down in the cart and lifted his head when he heard a muttered curse a few feet ahead. 

Blonde curls caught his attention and Jonathan straightened. Billy Hargrove was staring at a display table with a variety of sweets, a confused and almost distressed look on his face as he looked through everything. 

He’d never spoken more than a few words to Billy Hargrove. He knew about the tumultuous history he shared with Steve. Hell, _he_ himself shared a rather rocky past with Steve, but they were better now. ‘ _I think we’re better now…’_ but Billy Hargrove wasn’t ever on his radar, and yet…

“You okay?”

Billy’s head whipped in his direction and Jonathan felt a chill run down his spine. He had no real reason to fear Billy, and he didn’t, but there was definitely something lethal in that blue stare. Beguiling. 

Those blue eyes looked him over slowly and a wry grin crossed the male’s face. “Yeah,” he drawled, turning his eyes back to the sweets. “Just that my darling little stepsister threatened to blow my balls to bits if I didn’t bring her back her favorite cakes.” He snorted, “Not that I can remember what the fuck they were called. Something like trickle string or whatever.”

“Treacle Ribbons,” Jonathan realized, reaching down to the table. He grabbed a box of blue-speckled powdered cakes in the shapes of long ropes. He offered them to Billy, chuckling at his surprised stare, “My brother used to be obsessed with them.”

Raising a brow, Billy took the offered box. “Thanks.” He slipped one hand into the pocket of his tight denims.

“Yeah.” Jonathan made to turn.

“Byers, right? Your brother pals around with my stepsister and the rest of that little horde.”

“Um, right.” Jonathan looked back to the older male. “I’m Jonathan.”

“Yeah,” Billy smirked, “I know your name.” He glanced around the store and then back to Jonathan, “So, listen, you pretty much just saved my nut sack here so…” he shrugged, “Want to hang out some time?”

Confused, Jonathan simply nodded, “Okay, sure. It can’t be tonight,” he licked his lips, “I, uh, need to work.”

“Same.” Billy muttered, an annoyed looked crossing his features. It vanished when he looked back to Jonathan. “But soon, yeah?”

“Sure, Hargrove.” 

“None of that shit,” Billy insisted, waving a hand and turning on his heel, “Call me Billy.”

Jonathan watched the older boy leave, confusion still weighing on his mind. What the hell was that? He looked down at the list in his hand and sighed, pushing towards the dairy aisle for the milk. 

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, idk what I'm doing anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

There were more people this time. 

Jonathan parked and cut his engine, staring at the cars parked behind the dark hospital. There was just enough moonlight to brighten the models of the cars and he sneered, staring at the expensive vehicles. ‘ _More rich scumbags coming to watch poor kids beat each other up for money._ ’ Wealthy people could be so depraved. 

Still, though, all those expensive cars lined up behind the ruined and melancholy hospital under the light of the moon was beautiful. Reaching into his glove compartment, Jonathan pulled out his camera bag. 

After snapping a few pictures, he carefully tucked the camera back into its bag and stashed it in his glove compartment once again before getting out of the car and heading towards the back door of the hospital. 

The large man who always checked him at the door patted him down with rough taps to his body and Jonathan glanced around, listening to the excited noise and voices from the people waiting inside the part of the hospital where the ring was drawn. 

It was much louder than usual…

“You’re good,” a voice muttered gruffly and Jonathan stepped past the burly man, making his way towards where he usually found Connor. He kept his gaze straight ahead as bodies clothed in expensive suits and dresses parted to let him pass, either not wanting to touch him or too afraid to. He didn’t really know which one it was. 

“Jay.”

Jonathan turned at the familiar voice, finding his “boss” waving him over from the far right of the room. He walked slowly, turning his head to observe the crowd. To the front of the room there was a few chairs lined up just as neatly as the cars out back. Reaching Connor, Jonathan murmured, “Is there something wrong?”

“Prepare him,” Connor snapped to a timid looking woman dressed in a skimpy skirt and flowy top. The poor woman jumped and nodded frantically, rushing over to Jonathan and tripping over herself, the high heels on her feet making her a good few inches taller than him. 

Jonathan caught her easily, ignoring her whispered apologies, and straightened her. He could see the darkening in Connor’s eyes and he frowned, “She’s fine,” he said to the man, who stared back at him silently, “It was an accident.”

Connor considered him and Jonathan waited with baited breath. He could feel the girl’s body move with trembles and his heart moved along with her, a nervous quiver of unease running down both of their bodies. He didn’t fear for himself. Connor wouldn’t dare instigate anything with his own fighter.

But the girl…

Jonathan glanced at the woman. She was so slender and so small. Her hair was a brownish color, her eyes, although slightly glazed from whatever they had forced her to take, were a pretty shade of hazel. She reminded him of his mother.

“Of course,” Connor said finally, a small grin forming on his face when Jonathan visibly relaxed, “It was probably just the excitement for tonight.” He looked to the petrified woman, “Prepare him, please.” His tone was kinder now, and the woman nodded once more, turning to grab the hem of Jonathan’s green shirt. 

Looking away from the woman’s gaze, Jonathan lifted his arms and addressed Connor, “What’s important about tonight?” he rolled his shoulders a few times, listening to the familiar pops and feeling the old pulls of pain and then he held his wrists out to be taped. “Is it about the chairs?” he glanced over at them again, feeling the tape begin to adhere to his skin.

“Mm,” Connor nodded, and his lips were still curved in that damn little smile when Jonathan looked back to him, “I suppose it would do me no good to keep such a secret to my other fighter.” He motioned to the crowd, “They have all heard.” His eyes lit up, “I have found him.”

Jonathan was confused, “What are you-” but then he remembered. The lost fighter. Connor had found him. Worry began to creep into his blood. He had competition now. ‘ _Damn…I can’t afford to compete with someone else for money right now. Having this guy back could mean that I won’t be getting to fight as often.’_

A hand landed firmly on his shoulder, pulling him away from his thoughts, and Jonathan tensed. Connor was staring straight at him, an almost gentle look in his eyes. 

“Don’t stress,” the man cooed, “You are not going to be replaced. If anything, I am hoping that the two of you could…” he smiled manically, “Work in tandem. Win more fights. Together. The both of you could be an unstoppable force. The money you would both pull…” his eyes were practically brimming with malice and money lust and Jonathan swallowed. 

“I…” not knowing what to say, he said the only thing he could think of. “Who am I fighting?”

\--

Delighted crows and laughter rang unpleasantly in his ears and Jonathan stumbled out of the ring, keeping his eyes on the man lying face-down on the floor. When he’d been conscious, he was quite a shocking sight, pupils blown so wide that he looked almost alien and practically foaming at the mouth. 

He had been the second fighter Jonathan had faced. The first one had been over in just under five minutes, with him and the other teenager trading rough blows but him knocking the other out with a swift right-hook.

This second guy…he was clearly drugged. Not with a steroid but _drugged_ , with some sort of lace that made him a dangerous opponent. Jonathan had dodged for about as long as he could, jumping away from kicks, leaning away from punches and even ducking away from stained, jagged teeth when the man attempted to bite him. 

The guy moved too fast. In the end, for him to end it without getting bled on or bit or even kicked in the dick, Jonathan had flailed, hitting at the guy the same way he used to fight off his father from drunken bouts of rage.

It worked, and he managed to win… but not before suffering consequence for his reckless movements. His right shoulder had surely slipped out of place. He backpedalled away from the brouhaha of the crowd and felt fingers loop around the waistband of his jeans. Connor led him outside, to where his car was parked, and Jonathan took in a shuddering breath, the air cold against his naked torso.

“Beautiful work, Jay-bird,” the man said, “But next time try not to swing so violently. Your arm might stay in place then,” he quipped, reaching for Jonathan, who was leaning heavily against his car.

Jonathan groaned in reply, feeling hands press onto his shoulder. “Wait, w-what are you- ”He yelped loudly when his arm was popped back into his socket, tears stinging in his eyes. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to swing so hard,” he hissed between clenched teeth, “if you hadn’t stuck me in that ring with a cracked out fighter.” 

Connor chuckled, fisting Jonathan’s hair lightly, “Oh, don’t be upset,” he tutted, “You’ve won both of your fights and you’ll be rewarded graciously. Take the next two weekends off to heal, yes? Come back better.”

“Heal?” Jonathan asked suspiciously, flexing his shoulder a bit and _damn_ that hurt. “You sure you just don’t want me around anymore?” he was startled when his chin was grabbed roughly and he felt his head being tilted back. He stared up at Connor, who smiled serenely down at him. 

“What ever do you mean, little bird?” Connor murmured, “You are my fighter, Jay. For as long as I want you, you’ll always be here. I need you to heal nicely if you’re going to be a part of my plan.”

That odd sensation in the pit of his stomach was starting again. Dread. Unease. Despair. It always happened when Connor reminded him of how he basically sold himself into this damn deal. He really was just…stuck. Until Connor said so.

The sounds of people murmuring impatiently from inside reached them, and Connor sighed, releasing Jonathan. “Go home, Jay,” he ordered, “I’ll see you in two weeks.”

“Wait,” Jonathan said quickly, “The fighter. He’s here tonight, isn’t he? Is he fighting next?” he frowned, “Can’t I stay to watch?”

Connor chuckled, “You will meet him the next time you are here, but certainly not tonight. You see, he is not happy to be back under my wing,” his dark eyes trailed over Jonathan’s form, “…and I simply fear that he will damage my little bird in his anger.”

Realization hit Jonathan hard. “You believe he could beat me in a fight.”

“Dear, boy,” Connor hummed, turning back to walk into the building, “I _know_ he can.”

\--

Wednesday nights were game night at Casa Harrington. It was the middle of the week, a dull day where there was literally nothing going on in their little town. Most places closed up early and usually everyone just kept to themselves in their own houses. 

Wednesday nights were also when Steve’s parents went out for their date night and so, Steve always had the house to himself. With the promise of getting (most of) his homework done, he was allowed to have a few friends over. 

The thing was; most of his friends now-a-days were all kids.

It was the knocking on the door at around five thirty that distracted him long enough to lose his balance and fall flat on his ass. He frowned at Will, who was damn near screeching with joy at having won at Twister. “That doesn’t count, Will!”

“You wish,” the younger boy chortled, arms raised high in his victory. The rest of the little shits cheered for their comrade and Steve rolled his eyes, standing up and making his way towards the door. 

“You had all the advantage, you pipsqueak,” he grumbled as he started to open the door. “Welcome to Casa Harrington, where the short apparently rule and a King has no crown.” He said dryly, expecting to find just Nancy. 

Amused brown eyes sparkled at him and he felt his cheeks go hot, his jaw dropping at the sight of the blonde boy standing stiffly at his door. Nancy stood beside him, her smile wide and her hand clasped tightly around his.

“Oh, shit,” he said dumbly, rubbing the back of his neck, “Hey, Byers. What’s up?” he glanced back into the house, hearing the sound of the fridge opening, “Dustin!” he warned, “You’re cruisin’ for a bruisin’ if you nick another one of my sodas!” He turned back to his fellow teenagers at the door when he heard Nancy giggle.

“Intimidating,” Jonathan murmured, lifting his arm, offering Nancy’s hand for Steve to take. Steve’s lips quirked and instead, he folded his hand over the top of Jonathan’s, gently tugging him in and finding the surprise in those brown eyes rather pleasant.

“No work tonight, man?” he asked, pulling them both in and shutting the door behind them. He ignored the way Jonathan stood awkwardly in between the both of them, shrugging an arm easily over the smaller man’s shoulders. 

“I convinced him to play hooky,” Nancy whispered, her eyebrows rising and falling deviously and Steve snickered, glancing at Jonathan’s face to see his eyes roll. 

“The power of Nancy Wheeler,” Steve drawled, “Doing what no one else can and getting Jonathan Byers to take a break.”

“She’s full of it,” Jonathan muttered, a small grin forming on his own face, “I wasn’t scheduled for tonight.” He looked back to Nancy, “The plan was to just drop her off and steal back my brother for dinner.”

“Stay,” Steve offered simply, “I’ll order a couple of pies, the kids can chill for a while longer, and I can whoop your butt at Twister.” He led them to the living room, where the kids had started another game and Dustin was sat with the spinner, refereeing and sipping on another of Steve’s cola’s.

Jonathan snorted, “That’s what you’re doing?” he waved at the kids, who greeted him enthusiastically, Lucas hovering above Mike as they took their turn playing the game. 

“It’s physical,” Steve explained, “I need them to be moving, I won’t have them playing video games and that Darkness and Demons all night long.”

“ _Dungeons and Dragons_ ,” Mike corrected, tilting his head up to frown at Steve. He was currently keeping his left hand on red and his right foot on blue, his body contorted as he held his balance underneath Lucas.

“Whatever,” Steve waved the boy off.

“I’ll have a go,” Nancy said, smiling at Eleven and Maxine, “But only with a worthy opponent,” she winked at the girls, who stood excitedly. 

“Pfft,” Lucas raspberries, “ _I’m_ the only worthy-” he trailed off when Dustin spun the needle and he realized he was going to have to move his foot in a very precarious position. Ignoring the gaggle of his friends laughing, Lucas valiantly tried to maneuver around Mike to reach his designated color spot.

And promptly failed, his palm sliding over the circle and planting him face-first onto the mat. 

Jonathan chuckled, reaching out to snatch the spinner from Dustin, “I’ll be referee,” he announced, sitting down on the couch carefully, a grimace crossing his features just briefly. “Eleven, school Nancy for me.” He said, flicking the needle.

“Yes!” Eleven said cheerfully while Nancy glared playfully at Jonathan. 

“Some best friend you are,” she pouted. 

And so the game went, everyone eventually teaming up to play a few rounds. Nancy losing to Eleven. Eleven losing to Max. Max losing to Steve. Steve to Will _again_ and so on. Through it all, Jonathan spun the needle and called out color spots until finally, Nancy called a break for them to eat the pizza that they ordered. 

“Noticed you didn’t join, Byers,” Steve said loftily, chewing slowly on his bite of cheese and pepperoni. All conversation died then, the kids eagerly staring at the pair of them and waiting for a reaction. 

Jonathan didn’t reply, busying himself with sipping water from the glass in his hand. He did glance Steve’s way, though, eyes narrowed.

“Are you scared?” Steve teased and Jonathan grinned lazily.

“Terrified,” the chestnut-blonde boy answered dryly, setting down his glass. “You’ve got me officially spooked, Harrington.”

“One game,” Steve said, leaning over the counter to stare closer at Jonathan. He was watching for those rare dimples, “What do you say?” he tilted his head, peering into Jonathan’s thoughtful gaze. 

“Ready to lose?” Jonathan asked, mimicking Steve’s head-tilt and it was honestly such an adorable thing to witness that Steve couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his throat. 

“Let’s go, Byers.”

A couple of turns in, Jonathan was completely sprawled out. He was bent back, his left hand on red. Both his feet were pressed to their corresponding circle and he was biting on his lower lip as he struggled to keep himself upright. 

Steve was above him, smirking. His legs were spread open over Jonathan’s hips, his right foot on green and his right hand on the yellow besides Jonathan’s shoulder. “Looks like your little brother got all the luck tonight, Byers.”

Jonathan’s lips quirked, “Maybe not,” he murmured, low enough so that just Steve could hear, “It’s your go.”

“Dusty,” Steve said, keeping his eyes on Jonathan, “Spin.”

Dustin flicked the needle and cackled, “Left hand green.”

Eyes glinting, Steve lowered himself, crowding over Jonathan and place his palm neatly over the green dot right next to Jonathan’s hand. “You were saying?”

Jonathan merely huffed and then stilled as Dustin called out his go. He seemed hesitant to put weight on his right palm and he did it slowly, his body spasming and a low hiss escaping his lips as he held himself up with both arms. He arched, and his abdomen stroked at Steve’s groin accidentally. 

Steve sucked in a quick breath, staring down at Jonathan even as those panicked brown eyes met his own. 

“Shit, sorry,” Jonathan whispered. His face twisted into a pained grimace and he shifted again, Steve releasing a pull of air as Jonathan’s tummy grazed over his cock.

“Jonathan,” Steve said, through gritted teeth, “Please stop moving.”

“I’m sor-” 

“Steve, damn it!” Dustin snapped, “Did you not hear me? I said right foot blue.”

“Right,” he said weakly, his foot slowly lifting off of the green circle and slowly sliding it between Jonathan’s opened thighs to settle against the blue circle in the middle of the mat. A soft sound from beneath him caused his eyes to snap to Jonathan’s face. 

The younger man was in clear discomfort, his right shoulder quivering. “Dustin,” he whimpered, “Hurry it up.”

“Come on, Jonathan!” Will urged, “You can beat him!”

“Thanks, baby Byers,” Steve mumbled but it lacked any real heat. He kept his eyes on Jonathan, who struggled to move even after his spot was called. “Hey,” he said softly, “Are you okay?” 

“Y-yes,” Jonathan mumbled back, moving his knee. Unfortunately the way he moved caused him to graze Steve’s cock _again_ , his knee brushing the hardening denim and Steve jerked, his right hand slipping. 

Steve fell with a grunt, landing heavily on-top of Jonathan’s spread thighs. The smaller male made a sharp sound of pain and when a popping sound reached his ears, Steve hasted, sitting up in between Jonathan’s opened legs, “Are you okay?”

Jonathan’s eyes were tightly closed, his right arm drawn up into his chest. After a few deep inhales, he blinked his eyes open, forcing a smile. “…Draw, Harrington.”

Steve stared at him in disbelief, “Fuck the game, Jonathan, shit,” he moved up onto his knees, reaching down for Jonathan and slowly bracing an arm underneath the smaller male. He propped Jonathan up into a seated position, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Jonathan said quietly, his head hanging down, fringe covering his eyes. “I’m good...erm,” he lifted his head after a minute but kept his gaze forewords. “I…I um, injured myself at work. I’m okay now.” He moved his arm, shaking it out and he sighed. “I’m good.”

Nancy knelt down next to Jonathan, worry in her gaze, “This is from the overnight job?”

Steve noticed the way Will peered at Jonathan and how the older brother wilted under the stare from his younger sibling. 

“Yeah,” Jonathan said shortly, pushing up onto one knee. Steve stood, helping the slender boy up carefully, “It’s no big deal. I should be okay if I keep icing,” he stared at the ground, “I braced one of the heavier pieces against my shoulder and I guess it knocked into me harder than I thought.”

“Jesus,” Steve shook his head. “Come on, I’ll get ice on it.” He glanced at Nancy and motioned to the kids, “Pop in a video or something and keep them busy.”

“Okay,” she nodded, still staring at Jonathan sympathetically. 

Steve led Jonathan into the kitchen, “Can you get your shirt off?” he watched Jonathan nod, “Good, get started on that, I’ll grab an icepack.” He went over to his fridge, opening his freezer and rifling through it. He heard the sound of fabric being moved around.

“You just have ice packs at the ready?”

Steve chuckled, grabbing an icepack and turning, “When you have a Coach like I do, these things save your-” he didn’t even finish his sentence, the icepack slipping from his fingers. He fumbled for it, grabbing it just before it fell to the floor, and then straightened, staring at Jonathan’s shirtless back. 

He didn’t think he’d ever seen skin so… _milky_. It was the prettiest shade of pale, stretched over lean muscle and lines. His eyes trailed down, following the taper and curve of Jonathan’s back, down to where his skin met the waistband of his jeans and he swallowed hard, staring at the dimples on the younger boy’s lower back. 

‘ _What the fuck is happening?_ ’ he thought, completely stunned and confused about this sudden foreign feeling he was experiencing. Just what the hell was going on with him lately?

“Harrington?” Jonathan glanced over his shoulder at him, confused, “Are you okay?” 

Nodding quickly, Steve opened his mouth but nothing more than an odd sound came from his lips. He colored, closing his eyes briefly. “Yeah,” he opened his eyes again, walking over to Jonathan, “I’m goo- Oh, Jesus Christ, Jonathan.”

He stared at the younger boy’s shoulder. There was a dark bruise mottled on the pale deltoid, large and marring the perfect skin. 

“Yeah,” Jonathan muttered, “It’s honestly not as bad as it looks.” 

Shaking his head, Steve pressed the pack against that lily-white skin. “Easy,” he murmured when Jonathan shuddered from the cold. He brought his hand up, rubbing Jonathan’s naked side. It took him exactly four seconds to realize just what the hell he was doing. “I am so sorry, I’ll stop.”

“N-no,” Jonathan said quietly, and Steve glanced down to see a blush forming on his pale cheeks. “I…” licking his lips, Jonathan smiled playfully up at him, “It’s just your mothering instincts, after all.”

Letting out a surprised laugh, Steve shook his head, “Oh, piss off.”

They stood quietly like this for a while. Jonathan’s low breathing, and the sound of the movie playing in the living room echoing in his head, Steve looked down at the bruise again. It didn’t look like an impact bruise…it didn’t have the shape of on object or anything that could have slammed up into Jonathan. 

“So,” he murmured, his thumb tracing one of Jonathan’s ribs, “Got knocked by something during the job? What was it?”

“Didn’t see,” Jonathan answered quickly, “It was dark.”

“Must have been heavy,” Steve remarked, “I remember getting a bruise that looked familiar to this one, once. It was when I was playing baseball back in my freshman year. Swung the bat too hard, dislocated my shoulder.” Jonathan’s intake of air had nothing to do with the cold. “Morgan,” Steve continued, “he damn near did the same thing a few weeks ago, actually.”

“Don’t know him.”

“Right.” Steve removed the icepack from Jonathan’s shoulder, peering at the bruise. “That’s so damn odd, it looks identical to the bruise I had when I swung too hard. What were you doing, Byers? Swinging around wildly?”

“Stop,” Jonathan bit out, raising his head to look Steve in the eye. “Don’t go there.”

“You’re lying,” Steve said plainly. “You didn’t get hit by anything at work, did you? Jonathan,” he smiled grimly, “You got teased for weeks at school for barely being able to do ten push-ups and you’re standing here telling me that your job is hauling heavy equipment?” he shook his head, “You may have Nancy convinced, but not me.”

“ _You_ were one of those people teasing me,” Jonathan snapped, pulling himself away from Steve. He grabbed his black tee from where he had placed it on the island, tugging it on, hissing a bit as his shoulder protested the sudden movement. “Stop being nosy, Harrington. My job is none of your business.”

“Okay,” Steve nodded, “but why lie? Hm? What’s going on, Byers?” he frowned when Jonathan didn’t answer and tossed the pack into the sink, coming to stand besides the younger boy again, “Look, I…if you need help-” he was startled when Jonathan glared fiercely up at him. 

“Stop. It.” Jonathan ground out. “I’ve got Nancy on me. My own kid brother is worried about me. The last thing I need is _you_ stressing over me, too. I’m not worth it. Drop it. Just…” he turned away, “Just leave it alone.” He rushed back to the living room. 

Stunned, Steve could do nothing but follow. He watched Jonathan stand in front of the television, much to the bemusement of the pack.

“Will, let’s go,” Jonathan ordered, his spine stiff. “I’ll drop you off also, El, come on.” 

Eleven looked startled, not used to hearing Jonathan raise his voice. Timidly, she stood, making her way towards him but was stopped by Will. The shorter boy was frowning up at Jonathan, clearly not liking the change of plans.

“But it’s only seven fifteen,” the younger Byers argued, “Mom said I didn’t have to be home till eight thirty.”

“Will,” Jonathan pinched the spot between his eyes, inhaling hard, “Please, don’t start. Let’s go.”

“I’ll drop them off,” Steve said quietly, shrugging his shoulders at a bewildered Nancy, “Don’t worry about it. You can go if you want, it’s your choice, but let them stay.”

Turning his head, Jonathan glared at Steve and then cut his gaze back to Will. “Eight-thirty,” he said flatly, “Tell mom not to wait up for me.” He turned to go. 

“Jonathan,” Nancy rushed over to him, her hand on his arm, “Where are you going? It’s a school night!”

“Don’t worry about it,” he snapped. The way she stared back at him, blue eyes shining with hurt, had him deflating. Looking contrite with himself, he dragged his left hand down his face and hung his head. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told Nancy, lifting his hand toward her face. He cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin before he let his hand fall. He stuffed it into his pocket, grabbing his keys and rushing out of the room. 

“Jonathan,” Steve followed, intercepting him at the door, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have overstepped but don’t go. Not like this, man. I don’t like the idea of you driving right now.”

Jonathan stared at him and for a few moments, Steve was hopeful. The younger man looked emotionally drained. He looked sad and stressed. So unlike how he looked earlier in the night. His hope landed somewhere near his feet when Jonathan pushed past him, opening the door and slipping out without another word.

\--

He was so tired of having people worry for him. 

Jonathan stared down at the water from the top of the cliff. The quarry was always so quiet during the night. Sure, the birds were obviously all asleep by this point, but there was literally no sound. No wind rustling the branches on the trees, no sounds of crickets or scurrying insects. The water down below was completely still. Quiet. Eerie.

Sighing into the still night, Jonathan kicked at a stone near his foot. He watched the little piece of sediment sail before hitting the water with a quiet _plop_. He stared down at the ripples, his heavy heart longing to join the little rock as it sunk down to the bottom.

_“Understand, Jay,” Connor said, his eyes hard and serious. “Once you agree to do this, there is no out. Not until I say there is. You will come to me exactly when I tell you to, there are to be no missed events. You will tell no one. Ever. If I even have a suspicion that you’ve told anyone then the consequences,” he loomed over Jonathan, speaking softly but dangerously, “Will be severe.”_

Shaking his head, Jonathan bit at the inside of his cheek. Why had he gone and done something so desperate? So stupid? 

_‘Because you had to.’_ He reminded himself. And he did. Will was stable now. He hadn’t had a seizure in almost a year but that was only because of his medication. Medication that was draining their mother dry, with him being her only help and taking care of the bills at home. But it wasn’t enough…not when she was now…

Jonathan watched the ripples disappear, the water once more going still. He would have a lot of people to apologize to later. They meant well. They all did. Hopper, Nancy, his mother, Will, _Steve_.

Jonathan could remember the concern in the older boy’s eyes as he stared down at him, sprawled there on that stupid game mat in pain. Reaching up to rub his shoulder, he let his eyes close as he recalled the gentle way Steve had stroked his side after…caring for him in a way no one ever really had before. 

Evoking feelings he didn’t quite know how to react to.

_crunch_

Jonathan whirled around, his fists raised immediately, instincts urging him to swing. 

A hand closed tightly around his fist, catching the strike easily and Jonathan stared, his heart beating wildly in his chest as blue eyes gleamed in the moonlight. Blonde curls framed his attractive, tanned face, a look of intrigue reflecting in his gaze.

“Nice to know someone has got some fight in them in this shit town,” Billy Hargrove smirked, slowly lowering Jonathan’s fist. “Hey.” 

“Are you insane?” Jonathan said, “What are you doing here? Where did you even come from?” he hadn’t heard a car coming anywhere near here.

Billy chuckled, playing with the sleeve of his denim jacket, “I was here before you. My car is a few miles down; I didn’t want to be bothered. Then you pulled up and I saw you come over here, your skin damn near glows in the moonlight,” he shrugged lazily, “Didn’t know if you were going to jump or some shit. You got me a bit concerned.”

That word again.

Jonathan didn’t even bother to stop his laughter. He snickered, tossing his head back and dragging his hands through his hair, “Fuck me,” he breathed, opening his eyes to stare up at the star-less sky. 

“That an invite?” Billy asked, amused.

Jonathan smiled, shaking his head and looking back to Billy. 

“Hard night?” the blue-eyed boy asked knowingly.

“Something like that.” Jonathan slipped his hands into his pockets and peered at Billy’s face. There was a fading bruise on the left side of the boy’s face. “Ouch,” he murmured, tilting his head, “What happened there?”

Billy’s expression soured. “Mm. My old man,” he flicked his thumb over the bruise, a bitter smile on his face, “Wasn’t too happy with me. Not that he ever is.”

Jonathan nodded slowly. “I know the feeling.” At Billy’s curious head tilt, he sighed, “My dad is an asshole too.”

“He beat on you?”

“Battered the shit out of me when I was a kid, still tries when he pops back into my life every few months.” Jonathan didn’t really know why he was sharing this with Billy. He never talked about this kind of stuff. With anybody. ‘ _It’s because he understand…because he goes through it too._ ’ he realized.

“We should introduce the fuckers,” Billy muttered, turning away, “They may get a kick out of each other.” He looked back to Jonathan, “Hey, you free to chill? I’ve got some music in my car.”

Jonathan hesitated, glancing down at his watch. Nearly ten. It was a school night. He really should be getting home. But he didn’t really want to. Looking back to Billy, his lips curved. “Sure.”

Billy’s eyes glinted. “Come on,” he said softly, holding his hand out. 

Unsure why he was compelled to do so, Jonathan took it. Billy’s hand was different from others he had touched. Calloused. Cold to the touch. They walked silently to the Camaro and slipped in. Jonathan’s thumb traced over Billy’s knuckles and he reached up to the ceiling of the car, flicking on the light. 

He stared down at the bruised knuckles. “Take your anger out on a brick wall?”

Billy gazed at him, considering. “Something like that,” he echoed, reaching up to flick the light back off and switch on his engine just for the radio. The sudden blaring of heavy music crashed into their ears and Jonathan jolted. 

“Sorry,” Billy chuckles, lowering the volume a tad. “You good with this?”

“It’s your car.” Jonathan replied. He smiled fondly. “At least it’s not _Blondie._ ”

“Who?” Billy’s eyebrows narrowed and Jonathan grinned, waving it off. They sat quietly, staring out in the dark road and listening to the hard music. After a beat, Jonathan shifted, turning to stare at Billy. 

Billy stared back. “What?”

“Just curious. Why did you want to hang out? With me,” he added when Billy continued to look confused. 

“…You’re the first person in this entire town that didn’t seem intimidated by me. Or bothered by me.” Billy shrugged, “It’s nice. I think.” He seemed unused to being put on the spot. “Why did you agree?”

Jonathan didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know.” He looked down at his lap. “But I…I don’t mind this.” 

Fingers curling under his chin, tilting his head up, startled him and he stared into Billy’s small grin.

“Yeah,” the older boy murmured, “Neither do I.”

\--


	4. Chapter 4

It had been a while since he was able to just sit and read. Becoming engrossed in a good book, while the soft sounds of music played in the background, was one of his favorite activities but he rarely had time for it anymore. Now that he had the weekend free, he had picked it up again; sitting on the floor of his room with his knees drawn up to his chest and his back leaned against the frame of his bed. He’d been reading for about an hour, just killing time while Will showered and got ready for their little outing later on.

“No work again tonight?” his mother’s quiet voice echoed around his room and Jonathan looked up from his book to see her peering in at him from the door. She was wearing a blanket over her shoulders, and the soft grey pants from earlier, cradling a mug of coffee between her hands. 

Karen Wheeler had managed to convince her out of the house, bringing her along to little errands. It was good. She needed to go out more, to enjoy herself a bit. He was proud of her. For a little bit, it made them all forget about the anxiety and depression that weighed on her.

“No,” he murmured, setting the book on the floor beside him, “But don’t worry, I have the money for the bills,” he made to stand but paused when she chuckled down at him. 

“I didn’t ask about the money, sweetheart,” she walked over to him, sitting down on his bed, the mattress brushing against his back where he leaned against it. “It’s just…very nice to see your face more than just a few times a week.” She reached down, poking the tip of his nose and smiling when he looked up at her, “My beautiful boy.”

His lips curved and he lowered his head, resting it against her knee. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around as much,” he said quietly and he closed his eyes as her fingers glided into his hair, stroking the strands gently.

She didn’t say anything and he knew that she wouldn’t because what could she say, really? He sighed, “I’m taking Will out for ice cream,” he mentioned, “I know you’ve already been out today but would you like to come with us?”

Her silence continued.

Smiling wanly, he lifted his head from her knee. “Would you like me to bring you something?”

“No, sweetheart, I’ll be fine.” She looked down at him, her eyes searching his. Finally, with a small bit of insecurity in her voice, she asked him, “You would tell me if something were wrong, wouldn’t you? Jonathan?”

Guilt gripped him. It spread from his heart throughout his entire chest and burned him, the look of her sad worry seared into his mind. Oh, God. He was starting to panic. He was panicking. What was he-

“Jonathan?”

His head swiveled to his door, looking away from his mother’s gaze, and he sent a meaning look to his brother, who peered in at them. “Hey, Will,” he stood up, adjusting the hem of his sweater, “What’s up?”

“I’m ready.” Will said, his hands coming down to the zipper on his blue jacket, “Mom, are you coming?”

“Oh, no,” she said, looking down, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I…I think it’s best if I stay home.” 

Jonathan offered Will a small smile when his small shoulders dropped. “Hey, go ring up Eleven. I’m sure she would love an ice cream.”

“Okay,” Will brightened, rushing out of frame as he went for the phone. 

Jonathan inhaled and reached out, wrapping his arms around his mother’s shoulders. He hugged her tight, his lips pressed against her hair, “Everything will be fine, mom. I’ll make sure.” And there he was again. 

Lying. 

\--

“Easy on the sprinkles, Will,” Jonathan said, snatching the bottle of sugary dots away from the boy and handing it to Eleven. 

“But I like them,” Will said, keeping his eyes on the bottle as Eleven tipped it over her own sundae. As soon as she set the bottle down, Will grabbed at it again, and Jonathan rolled his eyes, admitting defeat. 

They were sat at a table in Mary’s Malt Shop, an adorable little sweets diner just a few miles away from the arcade the kids frequented. It was run by Miss Mary, a widowed woman with no children of her own, but a lot of love to give. 

All the desserts were recipes passed down from family members and the staff were all young members of extended family, including some of Miss Mary’s grand-nephews and nieces and several of her late husband’s cousins.

This was one of Will’s favorite places in town. Their mother used to bring them here back when they were younger and Jonathan had a very pleasant memory of a time back when he was much younger, and he would spoon ice cream into a younger Will’s eager mouth. 

Eleven offered Will a bite of her strawberry and banana sundae, and Jonathan smiled, content, as he watched Will dip his spoon into her bowl to taste. 

The sound of footsteps approached and then, a milkshake was placed in front of him. Jonathan stared at it, confused. It was tall, chocolate from the color, and topped with an unhealthy amount of whipped cream, strawberry syrup, and a bright red, slightly lop-sided, cherry. A spoon and blue colored straw was buried in the thick sweetness.

“Excuse me,” he said quickly to the twenty-something waitress who was walking away. He figures she must be a niece of Miss Mary’s. He smiled sheepishly, feeling second hand embarrassment at the question in her eyes before he said, “I think you must have the wrong table, I didn’t order this.”

“Oh!” she smiled brightly at him, using her pen to point over at the counter, “Compliments of the handsome young man.”

Jonathan followed her arm and he blinked hard at the sight of Steve sitting on one of the blue and white stools lined up at the counter, facing away from him and talking to Miss Mary, laughing at something the endearing older woman said.

He frowned, turning his head down to stare at the sugary drink. He hadn’t actually talked to Steve since Wednesday. After spending the better half of the night (almost till one in the morning) with Billy just listening to music, and talking a bit, he had agreed to meet up with the other male again on Saturday (tonight, really), he had woken up for school early Thursday morning pretty tired. 

He’d met up with Nancy, as he’d told her he would, but he actively ignored Steve. It wasn’t even that he was upset with the tall boy. Or maybe he was. Steve was the only one who had blatantly called him out for lying. Sure, Will had his suspicions, but Will was easier to…to lie to. All he had to tell his younger brother was that things would be fine and the younger boy would accept that. 

Steve, however, wasn’t going to be so easy to convince. 

“That was very sweet of him.”

Jonathan looked to Eleven, who was staring over at Steve with a fond smile on her face. When she looked back in his direction, Jonathan couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“It was, wasn’t it?” he agreed quietly. He wrapped his fingers around the cool glass, moving to stand. “Will you two be okay over here for a little while?”

Will nodded, his cheeks stuffed with ice cream, and Eleven beamed up at him and he turned towards the counter. He walked up behind Steve and sent a smile up at Miss Mary when she looked to him. Seeing her direction aimed over his shoulder, Steve twisted, the stool making a soft creaking noise as he moved. 

“Hello.” He said, catching the way Steve’s eyes strayed to his shoulder. Ignoring it, Jonathan nodded at the stool besides him. “Mind if I sit?”

Steve stared up at him and after a minute, he smiled, “Not at all.” 

Jonathan sat down, placing the milkshake onto the counter. He looked at it for a moment, watching a small bead of whipped cream slip down the straw. “What’s this then?” he asked, looking to Steve. 

After a minute of simply staring at him, Steve sighed, “I’m sorry.” He shrugged a shoulder when Jonathan’s brows furrowed, “Not for getting in your business. I still think you’re lying and I’m not happy about that…but I am sorry for letting you leave angry that night.” He glanced around the counter, reaching out to play with a napkin dispenser, “I…really wished you’d have stayed. We watched _The Evil Dead_ and Will said it was one of your favorites.” Steve smirked, “Dustin cried when we popped it in.”

Jonathan smiled, “Well,” he started, “As kind as this apology was…you never owed me one.” Scooting the milkshake closer to Steve, he continued playfully, “And I also prefer vanilla to chocolate.”

Steve hissed slowly, shaking his head, “Swing and a miss,” he said morosely and Jonathan smiled wider. “There they are,” he murmured, leaning to press his chin on his palm and gazing at Jonathan.

“What?” Jonathan tilted his head. 

“Your dimples. I’ve been wanting to see them again.” His voice was smooth, low and sincere, “They’re beautiful.” He smiled, his fingers tapping on his own cheek as he gazed at Jonathan. “You really should smile like this more often, Jonathan. It suits you.”

Jonathan could feel his cheeks grow warm. He ducked his head, smiling shyly at the white floors. “So,” he said, peeking up at Steve through his fringe, “Are you going to grab a second straw to help me drink this shake or what?”

“All right,” Steve reached out, plucking the cherry from the top of the milkshake. He held it by the stem, moving it closer to Jonathan’s face, “Say _ah_ ,” he teased. 

‘ _What the hell is he doing?_ ’ Jonathan thought, almost panicking. Staring at the little red fruit close to his lips and then looked up into Steve’s eyes, he turned as red as the little cherry, meekly parting his lips. 

The sweet fruit was placed in between his lips and Jonathan closed his teeth around it, feeling the stem being plucked away. He closed his lips, suddenly feeling weird and warm with how Steve’s low chuckle rang in his ears. 

“Shut up,” he murmured, cheeks enflamed. He reached into a plastic container, grabbing onto another straw and popping it into the milkshake, “Drink.”

\--

“So, what did you end up doing after you left?”

Steve finished rolling up the blunt and offered it to Jonathan. Once the younger male had taken it, he fished his lighter out of his jacket pocket and flicked it, staring at the bright flame for a few seconds before reaching out, lighting up the blunt that the blonde now had in between his lips. 

They were wandering around the woods in the back of the Byers’ house. Will and Eleven had run off their sugar highs for about a half an hour and then promptly fell asleep inside of Castle Byers. 

The older teens had peeked inside of the little fort and shared a smile before each one grabbing onto a kid, Jonathan lifting Will up into his arms to settle onto his hip, and Steve tucking one arm underneath Eleven’s knees and the other under her shoulders for a bridal carry. 

After carrying them inside, with Will sprawled out on one end of the couch and Eleven on the other, the two decided to just take a stroll outside. The wind was picking up and Steve brushed his hair away from his eyes as Jonathan handed him the blunt. 

“Nowhere important,” Jonathan replied with a sigh, smoke filtering out of his lips, “Just went over to the quarry. I was looking down at the water.” Their footsteps were quiet in the woods. The sound of their shoes crunching through twigs and leaves seemed too loud.

“Not thinking any dark thoughts, are we?” Steve questioned, only half-serious, before taking a deep drag of the blunt and looking over at his blonde counterpart. 

Jonathan shifted, “Define _dark_ ,” he said softly. 

“Are you ser- _Jonathan_ ,” Steve licked his lips, unnerved, “Tell me you’re fucking with me. _Please._ ” He stopped walking, reaching out to grab Jonathan’s wrist to stop him also.

Jonathan turned to look at him. After a moment of silence, his lips quirked just a bit. “I’m fucking with you, Steve.” He whispered as he reached for the blunt and calmly pulled his wrist free. 

Steve gave it up, frowning. He watched Jonathan take a pull and then grabbed it back, his nerves on edge. “Okay. The quarry. That’s all then?”

Jonathan bit at his lower lip. He kept his teeth clamped on it for a while before finally releasing it, eyes looking down at the dark floor. The way the lower lip plumped from the abuse caught Steve’s attention and he stared, a bit hypnotized. 

“Yes. That’s all.”

Steve blinked out of his trance, partly due to Jonathan’s tone and the other half because he almost tripped over a rock. Ignoring Jonathan’s snicker after his stumble and fixing his jacket, he peered at the boy. Something about Jonathan’s voice was obviously uncomfortable. “Really?”

“…No,” Jonathan admitted, “I just lied to you and I’m not really sure why.” He smiled bitterly, “Guess it’s just getting easier to do now.”

Steve didn’t reply, waiting. When nothing was said for close to a minute, he shrugged, bringing the blunt up to his lips. “You don’t have to talk about it, man,” he started, “I don’t want to upset you again.” He closed his lips around the blunt. 

“It’s not me who is going to be upset.” Jonathan crossed his arms and paused in his walking. He leaned his back against the bark of a tall tree, completely avoiding eye contact. “I was with Billy.”

Steve’s inhale was so sharp that he almost ended up pulling the entire blunt into his mouth. He coughed hard, dropping the blunt and doubling over, his choked breaths echoing in his head. He felt a hand on his back, gently slapping, and he waved it away. 

Inhaling slowly through his nose, Steve straightened, his watery eyes narrowed at Jonathan. The other boy was staring at him with eyebrows furrowed, lips pressed into a tight frown. “Billy,” he wheezed, bringing a hand up to rub at his eyes, “ _Hargrove._ ”

“Do you know many people named “Billy” in this town?” Jonathan shoved his hands into his pockets. “Yes. Hargrove.”

“Why the fuck would you willingly be around that guy?” Steve asked and he could _hear_ how loud he was speaking. It seemed to annoy Jonathan, because the younger boy narrowed his eyes. 

“He’s not so bad,” Jonathan murmured. “We sat in his car and listened to some of his music…and we talked.”

“You talked.” Steve repeated, staring hard at the slender boy, “He’s not so bad?!” Shaking his head, Steve laughed dryly, “Jonathan, are you kidding me? He’s a fucking psychopath.”

“You’re exagger-”

Steve cut him off with a sneer, “You don’t know him, Jonathan.” He raked his hands through his hair, “Fuck, I forget. You don’t know. Any of it. You were dealing with…with your brother. Will’s seizures. You don’t _know_.”

“Know _what_?” Closing his eyes with a sigh, Jonathan said, “Steve. Not everything is black and white. Remember, there was a time when _you_ were a real asshole.”

Steve faltered. Fuck, Jonathan had a pretty good point. But, really? Billy fucking Hargrove of all people? _Talking_ with Jonathan? It didn’t make sense in his head. It also made his skin itch, the idea of Jonathan alone with that piece of shit. 

Jonathan shook his head, “You don’t have to like it,” he murmured, “but he’s…he’s okay with me. I like his company.”

 _Ouch._ Why did that feel so weird to hear the other boy say? Why did it bother him so much? 

“Fine.” Steve said flatly, turning away from Jonathan. “Cool, I’m glad you two are enjoying each other’s company.” He made to walk.

“Steve.”

And froze in his tracks. Glancing over his shoulder, he could see Jonathan watching him with a small smile on his face. Turning fully, Steve stared as Jonathan spoke up. 

“I really enjoy _your_ company, too. You,” he looked sheepish, all the sudden, “You do know that, right? I…I’m not good at expressing these things but I do like being your…” he stared intensely at Steve, “Friend?” he tried, voice small, “Are we…are we friends?” 

The uncertainty in his voice made Steve’s blood warm and he smiled brightly at the younger teen. “Oh, geez, Byers.” He chuckled at the concerned pout staring back at him, “Of course we’re friends, Jonathan.”

_Of course._

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is where shit gets spicy. ^^


	5. Chapter 5

This was the most time he had spent with Steve. Ever. It was odd. At one point, he was very certain that he did not like the older teen. Or, maybe he didn’t like the _idea_ of Steve. A popular jock with great hair, lots of money, and exceptionally good looks. 

He’d gone from barely looking at Steve to now planning play-dates with him and their little circle of kids. In just this week alone, he had seen Steve on Wednesday, yesterday night and now, they were meeting up in the park, bringing along their charges so they could enjoy the nice Sunday.

 _’Two days in a row now.’_ Jonathan thought, watching the way Steve climbed out of the red BMW. The tall teen shouted at Dustin in the backseat, reaching over to grab the younger boy’s shoulder to jerk him awake, and Jonathan smiled. 

It was easy for him to see why Steve was so loved. The guy had incredible chemistry with Dustin. With everyone, really. No one he knew disliked Steve. 

_‘Well, that’s not exactly true.’_ He’d spend the night with Billy. Again. And when there had been a lull in their talking, he had mentioned Steve to the blue-eyed boy. Billy’s face soured and he immediately turned up his dark music, ending the topic right then and there. 

Jonathan watched the way Steve ducked back into his car to grab his baseball gear, the taller boy hefting a heavy-looking bag over a shoulder and adjusting the hem of his blue-striped tee shirt. 

“You’re staring at me pretty hard, there, Jonathan. Do I have something in my hair?” Steve joked and Jonathan snapped out of his staring, raising a brow at his friend. 

“In your hair? What if it were on your face?”

“Well,” Steve started, glancing around to check on the kids. Lucas was trying to convince the boys to a race across the jungle gym to no success and Will, Eleven, and Max were stalking a butterfly perched on a bright flower. “If it were on my face, I could just rub it off but my _hair_?” he shuddered, “Damn, it would take forever to set it right again.”

Jonathan chuckled, “Right, right. That sprayed out mop on your head is main priority.”

“Second only to you,” Steve quipped, setting his gear down onto the grass. He rifled through his things, grabbing a mitt and a baseballl bat. “You gonna join us?”

“No.” At this point, the butterfly that three of the kids were chasing fluttered out of sight; Lucas had given up in his racing endeavor and was now standing beside Steve, staring at all the sports gear with eager eyes.

“You sure you don’t want to try?” Steve wheedled, poking Jonathan’s thigh with the bat he held tightly in his hand.

Jonathan stared down at the bat and made a face. “I’m sure.” he busied himself reaching down to open his camera bag and ignoring Steve’s smirk, moving a good few feet away to find the optimal area to take photos. Finding a nice shady spot under a tree about ten feet away, he turned back to look at the party.

“Suit yourself!” Steve called out before he turned to the kids, beaming, “All right, twits, listen up. Baby Byers is going to bat this time.”

Groans from Lucas and Max reached his ears and Steve narrowed his eyes at them. “Stop it,” he said immediately, “Will has some decent strikes and besides, you two can’t be batters all the damn time.”

“You don’t have to lie,” Will said. He smiled and rubbed the back of his neck, “We all know I suck at batting.”

“It’s because you’re short.” Max told him bluntly, rolling her eyes when Mike and Steve both frowned at her. 

“You don’t suck,” Mike said, nudging his best friend with his shoulder, “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true,” Steve offered the bat to Will, grinning down at the younger male when he took it. “Don’t even worry about it, Will, I know you can do this,” he shrugged, “and I’m bigger and smarter so I’m always right.”

An amused little laugh escaped Jonathan before he could catch himself and he closed his palm over his grinning lips at the pout Steve faced him with. He waved his hand lazily, looking towards his brother, “You’re better than I ever was, Will. You’re going to do great.”

Will’s eyes sparkled, “Thanks, Jonathan.” He swung the bat a couple times, trying to get a feel for it, and Steve walked backwards, slowly coming to stand besides Jonathan. 

“You used to play?”

Jonathan shrugged a shoulder, squatting down and lifting the camera to his eye. He snapped a picture of Will swinging the bat before lowering the camera and staring down at it. “Lonnie made me practice. I hated every second of it.”

“Oh,” Steve murmured, kicking at the grass with his shoe, “Um, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be,” Jonathan replied easily, glancing up at the boy. Steve looked way taller from this angle. “My fondest memory of him is when I finally hit the ball he pitched to me and it smacked into the side of his head.”

Steve laughed, “Shit.” They both turned their attention to Maxine, who shuffled over to them with her hand held out. Uncurling her fingers, they could see a simple black band resting on the upturned palm.

“Steve. Tie my hair up.”

“Manners, Red,” Steve scolded lightly but he grabbed the hair tie anyway. Putting his hand on the shoulder of her yellow top, he spun her around gently, gathering her long hair in both hands as he maneuvered the red strands into a high ponytail at the top of her head. 

When he was done, she turned, smiling up at him, “Thanks!” she ran back to the circle, where Dustin and Mike were arguing about who was going to be pitcher “Both of you can shut up right now because _I’m_ pitching.”

“You may want to get in there and set roles,” Jonathan said, watching the youngsters begin to bicker, “Before Max completely kicks both of their asses.”

“You’re right.” Steve grinned down at Jonathan, “Hey, when you’re taking pictures of me, make sure to get my good side.”

“Who said I’d be taking pictures of _you_?”

The game they were playing went on for a good while. Will had batted first and actually managed to send the ball sailing towards the slide, where Lucas just barely managed to grab it and toss it to Dustin so that he in turn could toss it to Mike. Will still managed to make it to third base, though, which resulted in what Jonathan was sure was a great photo of his younger sibling smiling widely with his arms raised. 

All of the photos were going to be good. He managed to get a pretty adorable shot of Max jumping into the air as she struck out Mike, and a few pictures of all the kids in their positions in the field. 

Steve was umpire during the most of it before Lucas finally got his turn at pitching. 

“So, Steve,” Lucas grinned, tossing the ball over and over again into the air, “You going to stand behind us all day or are you actually going to show us those skills you claim to have?”

“You’ve done it now, Luke,” Steve ripped off his umpire mask, hanging it to Dustin, who immediately handed it off of Max. 

Jonathan chuckled, finding it amusing just how easily the kids managed to push Steve’s buttons, and got into position to take a few more pictures.

Steve was staring intensely at Lucas, his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched with tension. He adjusted his foot, his hands opening and then closing tight around the bat, and then his eyes flashed just as soon as Lucas pitched. 

He pivoted on his right foot, swinging his shoulder forward and the bat made a loud _crack_ as it smacked the ball up into the air. His brown eyes lit up as the kids cheered loudly, rushing to bombard him with hugs, and he let the bat rest on his shoulder, his smile soft as he watched the ball soar into the clouds.

Jonathan took the shot at that moment, wanting to capture just how _happy_ Steve looked doing something he enjoyed but also how much he seemed to thrive on the adulation these little brats had for him. 

Still peering at the older man through the camera, Jonathan felt his spine tingle and goose bumps line his arms when Steve looked over at him. The soft smile turned teasing, those dark eyes focused in his direction, intense and unwavering. Steve winked at him then, his tongue poking out of his lips playfully, before he was tackled to the ground by Dustin and Maxine. 

Jonathan slowly lowered the camera from his face, a quiet breath escaping his lips. His heart beating hard, he turned on his heel, hoping that the redness on his cheeks didn’t spread through his whole body. 

This was becoming a constant thing. Lately, he’d been having interesting… _reactions_ to boys. Well, to Steve mainly. It was confusing. He recalled that Wednesday night, where they were playing Twister. He had felt the obvious “attraction” in Steve’s pants when he’d accidentally brushed against the older boy but it could have just been a natural reaction. Hell, boners could pop up at any time; the male body was odd that way. However, the way Steve was talking to him lately seemed pretty close to flirting-

“So, got my good side?”

Jonathan blinked hard and turned his head slightly. Steve was standing beside him, staring down at him with a small smile. “Had some trouble finding it,” Jonathan muttered, knowing he was still blushing and hating it, “But yeah. I go it.” He tucked his camera back into its bag just so that he could have an excuse to look away from the brunette.

“Bullshit, Byers!” Steve exclaimed, “You and I both know that every side of me is good.”

Licking his lips nervously, Jonathan said quietly, “You’re…not wrong, Steve.” 

Ignoring Steve’s low chuckle, Jonathan scurried off, moving immediately towards the swings, where Will was now sitting on the one closest to the right. He moved his hands to Will’s back, giving the younger boy a push before standing aside. 

“It’s nice that you and Steve are friends now.” Will said, kicking his legs back and forth.

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I’ve really liked having you home more but I don’t think I’ve seen you this happy in a while. Steve puts everyone in a good mood.”

Jonathan considered his younger brother’s words. It was true. Usually, he was standoffish at best, but Steve really was turning it upside down for him. He looked back to the older male and was surprised to note Steve still staring at him. 

Having been caught staring, Steve immediately tried to play it off by turning his head to stare over at the jungle gym the other kids were climbing. But even from the feet separating them, Jonathan was rather pleased to note the color blooming on Steve’s face. 

\--

“You’ve got to try and help me understand.” Steve was staring hard at his homework, his hands pressed to his temples, as he listened to Nancy sigh beside him. He dragged his hands down his face and slapped the offending piece of paper away from his sight. “Fuck that. Let’s go do something.”

“Steve,” Nancy scolded, scooting her chair back. She went to the other end of the dining room table, bending down to pick up the abused homework. “You should just focus on getting this done tonight so that we can have the weekend free.”

“I’ll do it Sunday,” Steve promised, pouting up at Nancy’s stern expression, “Come onnnn, Nance. I didn’t get to have any fun this week, remember? I got dragged to the family reunion from Hell on Wednesday-”

“Blame your father for that one,” Steve’s mother said as she bypassed them to head into the kitchen. She returned a few short moments later with a packet of cookies, “It was his side of the family after all.” She offered some of the treats to Nancy, who smiled up at the matriarch and grabbed a cookie. 

“Those are mine,” Steve complained, reaching out to swipe a cookie and frowning when his mother merely pulled the packet away. “Okay, fine. I’m going out then.” He huffed, looking back to Nancy, “So, are you coming or what?”

Her blue eyes rolled as she chewed. After swallowing, she nodded. “Okay, fine. I swear, Steve, if you come to school Monday and this homework isn’t done-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Steve made a beeline for the decorative wall hooks where he and his parents hung their keys and then paused. “Hey, maybe we should swing by and collect Byers.”

“Isn’t he working at that night job?” 

Steve shook his head, “Nah, he told me on Tuesday that he had it off. Again.” It was strange, considering this was the job that was making Jonathan more money and for him to be off for two weekends straight didn’t seem ideal for his family to make ends-meet but the moody boy didn’t seem overly concerned as far as funds went. “Let’s surprise him and snatch him away from that depressing music and those creepy books he reads.”

“I like his taste in novels,” Nancy said casually as they shrugged into their jackets and walked towards the door. “Goodnight, Mrs. Harrington!”

“Be safe, kids!” the mother called back as they exited the house. 

The quick drive did nothing to quell Steve’s excitement. Sure, he’d seen Jonathan around school. They’d all eat lunch together, with Jonathan sitting silently in between him and Nancy while they argued over mundane topics, and offering Steve the rest of his food after Steve inhaled his own but it wasn’t same as just…hanging out. 

For as loose and care-free as Jonathan was when they were out, he was that much more reserved in school. Still kept his head down most of the time, avoided conversation with other students with all his might, and silently did the work he was required to do. 

It bugged the shit out of Steve.

He _liked_ seeing Jonathan with a flare of life and who better to incite that flame of life than the King himself? They made it to the little house in no time and Steve rushed out of the car. 

“Calm, Steve,” Nancy said, “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Sheesh, is this how the brats feel? Quit mothering me, Wheeler.” He raced up to the door and knocked loudly. 

A few moments later, Joyce answered the door, blinking up at him before smiling fondly, “Steve!” her eyes trailed down to Nancy, “Hello, Nancy!”

“How are you, Joyce-”

“Is Jonathan home?” Steve interrupted, not even reacting to Nancy’s smack to his shoulder at his rudeness, “Can I steal him for a couple? I’ll bring him back in one piece, I promise.”

Joyce’s eyes shined with mirth. “He is. He got back from taking Will over to Dustin’s house a few hours ago but I haven’t seen him come out of his room. He might be napping.”

“Right, right,” Steve remembered Dusty mentioning something about staying home this weekend because his mother had just gotten him a new baby tortoise and how the little pack was going to be sleeping over at his house this time. “Well, I’m going to go wake his lazy ass up!”

Joyce happily stepped aside, motioning for Nancy to sit while Steve all but ran down the hall to Jonathan’s room.

Voices from inside the room made him pause in his tracks. He stared hard at the door, leaning in to press his ear against the thin wood. At first, he couldn’t quite place the tone. Maybe Jonathan had music on? No, that definitely wasn’t a song. He could hear bits and pieces of conversation.

 _“…That’s all you have to say about it?…anything at all you liked about it…I thought the character would…”_

That was definitely Jonathan. Most likely talking about some sort of novel…but to whom? Steve strained to listen, eyes narrowing as the second voice chimed in.

_“I didn’t like the book…sure it’s going to give me nightmares…that guy was shit I would never..._

And then a laugh that sent a tingle down his spine. Not a good one, either. 

Steve knew he should have knocked. Really, he should have. He grabbed the doorknob and turned it hard, popping the door open aggressively. 

From the floor beside his bed, Jonathan stared up at him in surprise. “Steve?” he started to stand and then Steve’s eyes went to the window in Jonathan’s room. Besides the drawer that shelved some of Jonathan’s personal items, Billy Hargrove was sitting on top of the window sill, one leg pulled up to his chest and the other hanging outside of the window. 

Their eyes locked and Steve felt that old twitch of anger build up inside his chest when Billy’s lips pulled into a sneer. 

“Your majesty,” Billy intoned, all sarcasm and biting edge. 

Steve’s jaw ticked in anger. 

“Steve,” Jonathan said again, coming to stand beside him. “What are you doing here?” his head swiveled to the window, where Billy stepped out of the room fully, his shoes making noise against the foliage outside. 

“I’ll talk to you later,” Hargrove said to Jonathan, and his voice seemed almost…soft? Caring? Whatever tone it was, it sounded overly friendly and Steve fucking _hated it._

“Okay,” Jonathan nodded, heading over to close his window. 

As soon as he placed his hands on the glass, Billy reached out. 

Steve stared, his fists clenching at his sides, as Billy’s fingers wrapped around Jonathan’s wrist. He kept those slimy digits around Jonathan’s skin for a second, leaning over to murmur something into Jonathan’s ear before he stepped away. 

Looking back to Steve, Billy raised a hand and wiggled his fingers teasingly, a twisted little smile on his face. “Night, Stevie.” And with that, the asshole walked off, disappearing into the night like some spooky apparition. 

Jonathan shut his window and turned back around. “Hey,” he said, warily looking down at Steve’s fisted hands. “You may want to let loose now.”

“What?” Removing himself from his anger, Steve let his fingers slip out of their tight grip and then hissed, shaking his hands to get the blood flowing again. “Damn it.” He looked at Jonathan, frowning, “What was that? He just comes around like that? Right into your room?”

Jonathan shook his head, “He’s never really been in my room. He likes to just sit at the window…” he shrugged a little, “It’s not a big deal. He watches me read sometimes.”

“That’s fucking creepy.” Steve said at once and then he wanted to kick himself in the ass at the stare Jonathan gave him. “Not that _you’re_ creepy, Jonathan, shit. It’s…it’s just that…” sighing, he shook his head, “Never mind.” He sunk his hands into the pockets of his denims. “Um…Nancy’s here too. In the living room probably talking with your mom.”

“Oh. Why?”

“Wanted to come and kidnap you for a while,” Steve answered simply, still not sure how to process how _weird_ it was for his friend to be so close to his enemy, “Since, you know, I ditched you this Wednesday.”

“Ditched me?” Jonathan echoed quietly, staring at him through silky bangs. His eyes stared at him with some sort of emotion Steve didn’t really know how to describe. He looked happy at the words, his awfully pretty lips pulling up into a genuinely _sexy_ little smile…

Feeling his body stirring to life, Steve quickly recovered, “W-Well, the brats, I mean. I got dragged out of town by my parents.”

That insanely attractive smile disappeared. “Oh.” Jonathan looked away, shrugging, “No big deal. I took up duty for you and hung out with them at the arcade. They still had a fun time.” 

_Fuck, I’m an idiot sometimes._ Steve nodded, “Oh. Good.” He stared awkwardly at Jonathan, who kept his gaze firmly on the wall. “Damn it, just grab a jacket and let’s go, Jonathan. I…I owe you some fun.”

“Can I ask where we’re going?” Jonathan headed over to his drawer. He pulled out a navy blue sweater, tugging it on over his wine-colored shirt. He brushed his hair away from his face and Steve smiled. 

“No idea,” he said honestly, “but wherever it is, I’ll make sure you enjoy yourself.”

About thirty minutes later, they were all sitting in Steve’s car, staring out at the sudden thunderstorm that raged outside. Steve was hitting his head over and over again on the steering wheel while Jonathan busied himself with trying not to laugh. 

“I’m really enjoying myself, Steve,” Jonathan suddenly said and Steve peeled his face away from his steering wheel to stare over at the younger teen. “Truly, this is delightful. Being stuck in your car during a freak thunderstorm is exciting. Maybe we should tell ghost stories.”

He was teasing and Steve grinned, joining in, “Sounds good to me. Start us off will you, Nance?” when silence met his words, Steve called again, “Nancy?” 

Jonathan shuffled in the passenger seat, turning to stare into the back. He laughed quietly. “She fell asleep.”

“What?” Steve turned his head. Sure enough, Nancy Wheeler had unstrapped herself from the seatbelt and sprawled out in his backseat. She had taken off her jacket and tucked it under her head like a pillow and was completely knocked out. “Wow, she went and pulled a page out of your book on us.”

“The sound of the rain combined with your stupid face hitting the wheel probably did her in,” Jonathan concluded, easing back to face him, and Steve chuckled. 

“That’ll do it,” he agreed and they sat silently for a few moments. They were alone again. Well, Nancy was there but she didn’t count because she wasn’t exactly present. _‘Think of something to say.’_ “So…how close are you and Hargrove?” _‘Not that, you damn idiot.’_

Jonathan tilted his head. “Um,” he shrugged, “He’s a good listener. We talk for hours sometimes. He tells me…things.”

“Things,” Steve repeated, fighting hard to keep his eyes on the rain outside, “What does that mean?”

“I don’t think he would like me telling you,” Jonathan muttered. “He’s a very private person.”

Steve snorted. “Sure.” He drummed his fingers against his wheel. “What did he say to you before he left?”

Jonathan laughed. “I lent him a book. He read it and didn’t really enjoy it but he seemed pretty fond of a certain line a character said to a love interest.”

Well. That sounded horrible. “Which was?”

“Steve…”

“I’m just curious,” Steve whispered, turning his gaze to Jonathan. “What…what was the line?”

Jonathan squirmed in his seat. “ _And when I dream, it’s of your lips…and the way they smile at me whenever I am around._ ”

Steve swallowed audibly. “That…hm.” He mulled over what to say, wishing he could go out in this storm, find Billy Hargrove, and beat his tanned face black and blue. The utter violence and contempt he felt for that blond prick was never this bad before. 

Because he could see the dark desire in those evil blue eyes. Desire for Jonathan, who seemed either oblivious towards it or maybe…just maybe he was okay with it…and that also did _not_ settle well. 

He didn’t like the idea of Billy being close to Jonathan. He didn’t like knowing that Billy was comfortable doing strange things like popping into Jonathan’s window to watch him read. He didn’t like the way Billy was usually so hostile to everyone but so level and peaceful with Jonathan. 

“It’s not a big deal.”

Steve laughed dryly at the quiet words. “Yeah, you seem to think that everything he does isn’t a big deal but Jonathan,” he smiles grimly over at the smaller male, “You can’t seriously be this naïve.”

Jonathan’s eyes narrowed. “And what do you mean by that?”

“Come on, Jonathan, don’t you see it? He talks to you, you said. When have you ever seen this guy talk to _anyone_ without it being a threat or a fight? He…” Steve grit his teeth, “I think he’s attracted to you.”

Jonathan took his time before speaking again. “Steve, I don’t think-”

“Yeah, that seems to be your problem. You’re _not_ thinking, Jonathan. Hargrove is bad fucking news and I don’t know if you _like_ the thought of him chasing after you but I don’t. I really fucking don’t like it.”

Jonathan’s gaze was unwavering but he looked on the verge of an emotional tide. His eyes were teary; his bottom lip trembled just a bit before he inhaled deeply and raised his hands to press his fingers into his temple. “Why?”

“What?”

Jonathan laughed, short and sardonic, “Why don’t you like it, Steve? What if Billy is attracted to me? Why does that bother you so much?”

“I…” Steve stared hard at Jonathan, feeling like there was an iron balls wrapped around his ankles, pulling him down deeper into that strange and foreign feeling he felt whenever he was around Jonathan. “I just…I don’t want you to get hurt, Jonathan.”

Jonathan nodded slowly, a shaky breath escaping his lips, “I-is that the only reason why? Or is it…is it because…”

Alarm bells sounded in Steve’s head. He wasn’t used to this. He was the one who charmed feelings out of people. He was the one who was always secure. He knew his feelings, he knew the way these things went but right now…right now he was so confused. 

These feelings, this strong emotion, _nothing_ had ever felt this way before. He should embrace it. He wanted to know it. He wanted to dive head first into it, to explore it and revel in it. 

So, knowing all of this, why was he still so long on what to say to Jonathan? Jonathan, who was staring at him with a hopeful, also slightly confused gaze. Steve felt himself subconsciously leaning closer, noting that Jonathan was also moving to meet him in the middle. 

God, any closer and they would…

Steve eased back with a nervous sigh, looking anywhere but Jonathan’s eyes.

“You’re my friend, Jonathan. I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

 _Stupid, stupid, **stupid**_.

Jonathan backed away, nodding, “Yeah, okay. I’ll be careful.” He was clearly disappointed. He turned his gaze towards the window, staring at the rain that was finally beginning to calm a bit. This was not what Steve had been hoping for tonight. 

“No, wait,” Steve said quickly, squirming in his seat, “That’s not the only-” his arm slid off the wheel and he grimaced when his elbow pressed against his horn, the loud blare making Jonathan jump in surprise and causing Nancy to sit up straight, a scream leaving her throat.

“Steve, what is wrong with you?!”

 _‘I don’t know._ ’ Steve thought morosely, slamming his head down onto his wheel once again. 

\--

The sound of tapping against his window surprised him and Jonathan looked up from his book. 

Blue eyes peered in at him, and Jonathan stood from his bed, forgetting for the moment that he was dressed only in a pair of loose grey boxers and a baggy red sweater. He walked over to the window and slid it up, smiling as Billy took up his usual perch. “I didn’t think you would come back tonight.”

“Took a chance,” Billy shrugged, “Figured that the storm would mean you’d be home sooner rather than later. Good to know I was right.” He crossed his arms over his denim jacket, “A new one?” he asked, referring to the book lying open-faced on the bed. 

“It’s the one I lent you. I was re-reading it.” Jonathan leaned against the wall beside the window, staring at Billy. “I actually just got to the line you seemed to like.”

“It’s a good line,” Billy’s gaze didn’t drift away. “I can…level with it.”

Jonathan’s lips quirked. “I can only guess that’s a good thing?”

“It is.”

Jonathan nodded, considering his next words carefully. He ran his thumb over his bottom lip and then said, “I’m not sure,” he started softly, “but I think I got close to getting my very first kiss tonight.”

A snort from Billy caught his attention and Jonathan turned his head to watch blue eyes glinting at him. 

“Bullshit,” Billy drawled, “You’ve never had a kiss?”

“Is that so surprising? Mm, wait,” he smiled a bit self-deprecatingly, “You haven’t been here long. I’m not very popular. My closest friends are all kids, Nancy Wheeler and St-”

“Don’t say his name,” Billy interrupted, sighing heavily, “Not when you’re with me.” He shook his head, “Fuck the people that don’t like you,” he said bluntly. “You’re…you’re okay, Jonathan. You’re good.”

Tilting his head, Jonathan’s brows furrowed. “Thank you, Billy. You’re…you’re good too.” He frowned at Billy’s grunt, “Hey, quit it. You’re good, Billy. Not with everyone and not…not all the time but I think you’re good. I really do.”

Billy shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “So. You’ve really never been kissed? Do you know how to?”

Jonathan blinked. “I…um, you just press your mouth to theirs…right?”

Billy chuckled, slowly stepping fully into Jonathan’s room. 

“W-what are-” Jonathan nearly jumped out of his skin when his jaw was grabbed in a gentle but steady grip. ‘ _Oh, God. What’s happening. What’s happening?!_ ’ A thumb pressed against his chin, tugging downward and Jonathan’s lips parted on a mute gasp, his wide eyes staring at Billy as the taller boy loomed over him. 

Holding his gaze, Billy’s tongue curled out of his mouth and Jonathan shuddered, feeling the slick muscle slide up his opened mouth before Billy’s lips pressed firmly over his. His chest felt like it was going to burst and he blinked repeatedly, completely surprised. 

After a brief couple of seconds, Billy pulled back, the corner of his lips turned upwards. 

“ _That’s_ how you kiss, Jonathan.” He murmured, low and hot. His tongue swept over his own lips and his blue eyes sparked with fire, staring down at Jonathan hard.

Jonathan swallowed, not knowing what to say. He could feel arms slide around his torso and he hesitantly reached his own arms up, letting them lace around Billy’s shoulders. Billy lowered his head again, their lips meeting once more. 

And Jonathan kissed back this time.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One comment=one prayer for our air-headed Steve. 
> 
> Don't get too comfortable. Remember the tags.


	6. Chapter 6

The school week was looking dim. And it was only Tuesday. 

Yesterday morning, Steve had gotten to school a bit late due to sleeping in, and tried to find a parking spot besides the familiar Ford he usually parked next to. Unfortunately, because he had been late, the spot next to that welcoming Ford was taken up by a rather unwelcoming blue Camaro.

And then, at lunch, he and Nancy were sat on the trunk of that Ford. They waited patiently for Jonathan for about ten minutes before Nancy mentioned that he may have gotten caught up with some sort of project. Dismal, Steve chewed slowly on his sandwich but accepted that maybe Jonathan got busy. 

The chestnut-blonde boy didn’t seek them out after school, and his Ford was gone by the time that Steve and Nancy finished their individual practices. After dropping Nancy off at home, Steve drove by the Byers household but didn’t linger. Jonathan’s car wasn’t there. 

That night, he tried calling the house. Joyce answered the phone. She sounded melancholy and Steve didn’t want to further upset the woman so he quickly bid her a goodnight and decided to just get up on time the next day so that he could have a chance at seeing Jonathan. 

_This_ morning, Jonathan’s car was nowhere in sight. The stupid Camaro was there, in the same spot as yesterday, but the haggard Ford was absent. 

‘ _Where are you?_ ’ Steve thought unhappily, leaning against the door of his BMW. Nancy was inside the vehicle, a plastic container full of pasta on her lap and a couple of cokes standing in the cup holders. Steve had a third one clasped in his hand, for Jonathan, and he surveyed the parking lot for a few more minutes before sighing loudly and ducking into his car.

“I think Jonathan is avoiding me.” 

Steve traded his celery for Nancy’s baby carrots. Grabbing onto one of the small, orange vegetables, he bit down hard, the crunchy texture and healthy taste filling his frowning mouth before he swallowed. 

“Why do you think that?” Nancy asked gently, dropping her forkful of pasta back into her Tupperware container. She dabbed at her lips with a napkin, staring at him with furrowed brows, “Does this have anything to do with how you choked out on telling him that you’re having feelings towards him on Friday?”

Steve almost broke his neck turning to stare at her, stunned. 

She smiled lightly, eyes twinkling, “I wasn’t fully asleep,” she admitted and Steve sighed loudly, dragging a hand down his face. 

“I don’t know how this happened,” he wailed, completely aware that he was being overly dramatic but not caring one bit, “I…we were friends! He’s my friend. We have little brats that we look after and he’s a pretty fun gun once he opens up. He hasn’t been socially constipated in weeks.”

“Thanks to you,” Nancy pointed out and Steve felt pride in those words, “But,” she sighed, “I do miss him also. Maybe he’s just working on school work, some extra credit to catch up.”

Steve grumbled. “I wish he’d at least tell us.” He brightened suddenly, “Hey, but tomorrow is Wednesday! Game night at my place, he can’t miss that, right?!”

Nancy smiled, “We should ask him just to be sure. He may have to work.”

Steve shrugged a shoulder, “If he does, we’ll just take the kids to see a movie. That way I’ll still get to see him.” It took him all of five seconds to realize what he had just said. “I mean, _we_ will still get to see him.”

Nancy’s smile was way too wide. “Sure.”

“Eat your food,” Steve muttered, popping another carrot into his mouth and ignoring the warmth he could feel settle in his cheeks. 

“But I’m so curious,” Nancy teased before she began to speak seriously, “When did you start having feelings for him?”

Steve considered her question. When had it started truly? He remembered the first time he had gone up to Jonathan, that day after school. How defeated and worn the boy had looked and Steve had just wanted to…to help in some small way. _Any_ way. 

“I’m not sure,” Steve said honestly. “It just sort of happened. We went from never even being in the same room to getting close enough to joke around, to hang out, to _enjoy_ being around each other. I just,” he shrugged, “I wanted him to be happy. For a while there, he seemed…heavy. Like he had just given up and I wanted to change that.”

Nancy blinked at him. Slowly, her lips tugged up towards a watery smile. “You are so sweet, Steve.”

“Hey,” Steve nudged his shoulder against hers, “Don’t get all teary on me, Wheeler.” His own eyes feeling suspiciously moist, he smiled lopsidedly at her as the bell rung, signifying the end of their lunch. 

Both of their heads turned towards the left when the sound of tires squealing and loud music drowned out the annoying little bell. Steve’s eyes narrowed at the sight of that Camaro smoothly reversing and then backing into a parking spot. “Hargrove.”

“Guess he left the school grounds for lunch.” Nancy mentioned as she reached into the back-seat to grab her bag and books. Steve stepped out of his car and followed her movement, opening the back door and grabbing his own supplies. When he straightened, he caught sight of the arrogant blonde climbing out of the Camaro. 

Hargrove was speaking, but he was too far away to be heard. He folded his arms over the top of the blue car, waiting for the passenger to climb out and when he did, Steve dropped his books. They landed inches away from his foot, just barely missing his toes, but he didn’t even consider his luck as he watched Jonathan stand across from Hargrove, smiling at something the blonde had said. 

_Fuck_. Steve had been yearning to see Jonathan, to look at that smile, to talk to him and there he was. So close. But-

Hargrove came around the car to Jonathan’s side. He glanced over his shoulder at the school building and then ducked his head, whispering something so that only Jonathan could hear, smiling that creepy smile of his as Jonathan reacted to his words with a shy grin, pale cheeks blossoming with pink.

Steve didn’t even realize he was trembling in anger, the dark emotion rolling through his veins like pins and needles, until gentle hand on his shoulder leveled him. Nancy. “Steve,” her soft voice at his side, “Relax. They are friends. Jonathan has already told you this.”

Jonathan glanced around the lot and then his gaze fell on them. His eyes brightened and he lifted a hand. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve could see Nancy raise her own hand excitedly. Hargrove turned to look over at them but he didn’t share Jonathan’s enthusiasm. Instead, his blue eyes narrowed in their direction. 

Right. _Friends._

Didn’t mean he wanted to see it, though. 

“Let’s go,” Steve grunted, bending down to grab his fallen books before pivoting sharply on his heel. He began to walk towards the school, Nancy lingering back.

“Don’t you want to say hello to-”

“No.” Steve interrupted, keeping his steady pace. “Later. I’ll look for him later.”

\--

Lowering his hand slowly, Jonathan watched Steve’s retreating back. He hadn’t seen Steve the last couple of days, having been mostly around Billy, but just seeing the other boy briefly had him realizing just how used he had gotten to being around Steve Harrington. And he _missed_ him.

Steve not even acknowledging his greeting had stung…but it wasn’t unexpected. Jonathan knew it was mostly his own fault. Whatever was happening with Billy was consuming a lot of his time and he hadn’t even really tried to seek Steve out. Truthfully, he was afraid of what Steve’s reaction would be to the…recent developments.

“Nice guy,” Hargrove drawled, and Jonathan glanced over at him, seeing the way the blonde was staring a hole into Steve’s shoulder blades. He was holding Jonathan’s bag in his right hand. By this point, there were no more students around the parking lot and the warning bell rung, a reminded that they only had five minutes to be in their respective class.

“He _is_ a nice guy,” Jonathan murmured, grabbing his bag from Billy’s hand. Before he could take a step towards the school though, he felt a hand close around his wrist. A well-placed tug and he was jerked into Billy’s tight embrace. Before he could even open his mouth to speak, Billy’s lips pressed firmly against his. 

Billy’s kisses were…odd. They weren’t bad, far from it, but they made him feel a strange way. Billy kissed like he was trying to take something from him. The kisses were hard, demanding, and sometimes they went on for so long that they made Jonathan light-headed. 

Like right now. Jonathan struggled just a bit, a muffled sound escaping his throat as he brought a hand up to Billy’s chest, pushing just enough so that Billy could feel it. The blonde broke the kiss, easing back. 

“Doubt he’ll be as nice once I tell him about this.” Billy made to walk and this time, Jonathan reached out, wrapping his hand over Billy’s bicep. Puzzled blue eyes looked his way and Jonathan stared at him seriously.

“ _I_ will tell him. Whatever this- whatever we’re doing. I’m going to tell him myself, okay? You two,” he frowned, “You’ll fight.”

Billy stared at him silently for a few seconds. Then, he smirked, “Whatever you say, doll-face,” he drawled, “Now, if you want me to actually make the class I wanted to skip, we better start walking.”

After school, after Billy had dropped him off at home, Jonathan sat on the floor in Will’s room, helping the younger boy with some homework. He had to go to work in about an hour and he usually used that time to nap but his brother absolutely _loathed_ math because who didn’t, right? And he figured he could at least get Will on the right track. 

“Who invented fractions?” Will grumbled, erasing an answer on his sheet of paper before scribbling in another. 

Jonathan looked at the new marking, narrowing his eyes as he tried to confirm the answer in his brain. It didn’t work. Sighing, he grabbed a spare piece of paper just off to the right of his brother’s workbook to work out the problem himself, “I don’t know, bud. Some sad person, I bet.” He began to write out the equation on the paper when the sudden sound of something shattering caused him and Will to jump in unison. 

“What was that?!” Will cried out just as Jonathan shot up from the floor and rushed towards the kitchen, his footsteps loud in the otherwise silent little house. He skidded to a stop at the sight that greeted him. 

Joyce was on her knees on the kitchen floor. Her favorite cup, a white porcelain mug that he had gotten her as a Mother’s Day gift years ago, and that Will had decorated for her with some painted butterflies, lay shattered just a few scant inches away from her fallen form. 

“Mom?” Jonathan said softly, walking over to her carefully and crouching down to her level. He waited until she slowly turned her head to stare at him and he reached out, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear, “Mom? Are you okay?”

She didn’t answer the question and then slowly, she looked back down to the broken pieces. “…I broke it.” She reached out, grabbing onto a piece of the sharp ceramic, closing her fist around it tightly and then holding her closed fist to her chest. “…I’m sorry, my beautiful boy,” she whispered, as if in a trance, “I…broke it.”

Sighing quietly, Jonathan shuffled onto one knee, “Come on, mom,” he reached out, gently grabbing his mother’s arms. He helped her up, slowly walking her away from the kitchen. He looked at Will, who was standing just a bit away, “I’ll put her to bed and then you can help me clean the mess up.”

“Okay.” Will said, voice small, his eyes glued to their mother. 

Jonathan kept his head down as he walked her to the room. He pushed aside her blankets and then helped her to sit down. Gently, he pushed onto her shoulders, getting her to lie down. She stared up at him with watery eyes and he felt his heart constrict. 

“Mom,” he whispered, closing his eyes briefly as he inhaled shakily, “Mom,” he repeated, “it’s okay. I can…I’ll buy you another mug.” He swallowed. “I can…I can call Hopper. He can bring Eleven and we can all sit with you here a while. Would you like that?” he swallowed.

She nodded once, tears streaming down her cheeks and Jonathan nodded back, his own vision blurring. He walked out of her room, his hands fisted into his jeans. When he got back to the kitchen, Will was waiting, holding onto a broom. “Here,” he muttered, taking the broom from his younger brother. “Call Hopper. Tell him to bring Eleven over for a while.” He began to sweep up the broken shards.

“I had a feeling it would be today,” Will suddenly said and Jonathan paused, staring at his younger brother. “She’s been different the past few days.”

“She has?” ‘ _Why didn’t I notice…?’_ The answer hit him like devastating right hook. He’d been gone. He hadn’t been working but he’d been spending his days with either Steve or Billy. Not at home. Not with his mother.

How could he not see the signs? The amount of anguish settling on her shoulders had never slipped past him before but now…Shamed, Jonathan lowered his head, sweeping anew. His selfishness was eating away at his heart. 

It didn’t take long for the chief to make it to their house. The time between the call and him knocking on the door was all of ten minutes. Jonathan opened the door, stepping aside for the man and little girl, avoiding staring at them too much. 

“She’s in her room,” he licked his lips, “I, um, I have to get ready for work but I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Eleven and Will walked off but Hopper stayed put, staring down at Jonathan. 

“Why don’t you call out?” he suggested, “I’m sure she would want you to stay with us. With her.”

He’d thought about it. The last thing he wanted to do was leave his mother when she was hurting, but…

“Bills are piling up,” he whispered, “Electric is due Friday and the…other job had me off the past two weekends. I need to make this shift if I’m going to get the full payment in on time.”

Hopper sighed, “And you won’t let me lend you the money,” his lips quirked, “You’re as stubborn as your mama.”

Jonathan smiled a bit. “Let’s go spend some time with her.”

\--

“Hey,” he whispered, reaching out a hand to brush back Will’s hair. The young boy roused from his doze, glancing back at him from where he had buried his face in their mother’s side with sleepy eyes, “I’m heading out. I’ll be home around ten.”

They’d been in the room with her for a little while. Eleven had tried reading to the woman, but she barely got a few sentences out before Joyce began to sob. Whatever was going through his mother’s mind was really eating at her tonight, and she grabbed onto her youngest son and the little girl with almost frightening desperation. 

Jonathan had been mortified at the sight of his mother. He’d seen her like his before but it had been a while. She had been doing so well. He and Hopper each placed a hand on her shoulders and he ducked his head against the small of her back, tears sliding down his cheeks as she wailed. 

Finally, after a moment, she seemed to calm down enough for Eleven to meekly pick up the book again. A few short stories later and she had fallen asleep. Will, completely vulnerable at this point, had cuddled up to their mother immediately and Eleven had followed suit. 

“Okay,” Will whispered. 

Jonathan smiled a bit, “Dinner at seven and in bed by nine, Will, we have school in the morning.”

Nodding, Will’s eyes drifted shut once more and Jonathan glanced to Eleven. The little girl was also dozing, cuddled into Joyce’s other side, one arm thrown around the older woman’s midsection. 

In between the both of them, Joyce slept soundlessly, her expression serene and soft. Jonathan took a few steps backwards, leaving the room and making his way to the kitchen where Hopper was leaning against the counter and sipping languidly from a mug. 

“I’m going,” Jonathan said, shifting from one foot to the other, “T-thanks, Hop, for coming over. I’ll be home a bit late and I didn’t get a chance to cook-”

“It’s fine, Jonathan,” Hop shrugged, “We’ll order in. I’ll take the couch, Eleven will bunk with Will.”

Relieved, Jonathan thanked the older man and made his way towards the door. He opened it and then blinked in surprise at the male on the other side, his hand raised as if getting ready to knock. “Steve?”

Lowering his hand with a small smile, Steve said, “Hey, Jonathan.” Shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark green jacket, he started to speak but then stopped. His eyes narrowed a bit, most likely seeing the red in the younger boy’s eyes. “Is…are you okay?”

Lips trembling up into a smile, Jonathan reached behind him, closing the door. He rested his back against it and inhaled shakily. “My um-my mom,” he bit onto his bottom lip, trying not to cry. “She…u-um…”

Steve took a step forward, “Hey, c’mere,” he said gently.

Jonathan felt the long arms wrap tenderly around his shoulders and he sunk into Steve’s embrace, his own arms moving to around Steve’s hips, hands splaying around the taller man’s back. Tears were already slipping down his cheeks, sliding down to soak against Steve’s bare neck. 

“I’ve got you,” Steve’s voice was so soft.

He didn’t know that this was what he needed. Somehow, Steve did. 

Pulling back a bit, Jonathan murmured, “I’m sorry,” he moved his thumb over the salty trail on Steve’s throat, “I…any more waterworks and your shirt will be drenched.”

“I don’t give a damn,” Steve murmured back, moving his arms. He raised his hands, cradling Jonathan’s cheeks. He slid his own thumbs over the damp cheeks, clearing away the little streaks of sorrow. 

Jonathan sighed, eyes closing as he felt Steve’s forehead touch to his in a reassuring manner. “I have to go to the theater,” he licked his lips, “W-work.”

“Let me drive you,” Steve pulled back and Jonathan opened his eyes to see Steve staring down at him, “I’ll pick you up after, too. I don’t want you driving like this.” He sucked his own bottom lip into his mouth, “Also, I…I miss you. I just want a little bit of time with you.”

Guilt slammed into Jonathan like a tornado. Countless memories from the previous couple of days swarmed his mind. Blue eyes and hard music and intimate hugs and intense kisses… _‘I need to tell him…’_ but Steve’s eyes were so bright with hope, burning with desire to just spend a little bit of time together. _‘Tell him.’_

“Okay.” Jonathan agreed, hating himself for feeling his heart pulse with joy at the utter delight in Steve’s expression.

‘ _I hate myself…I **hate** myself._’

\--


	7. Chapter 7

Steve was waiting for him outside the theater. Jonathan couldn’t help the fond smile that spread over his face, even though he’d had a miserable time during his shift. Every moment was spent either worrying over his mother…or feeling guilty about keeping his relationship with Billy a secret from Steve.

He strolled over to the car slowly, grinning as the window rolled down. He leaned over, resting his arms on the frame of the car. Steve stared back out at him, eyes soft and a gentle smile teasing at his full lips. His hair was different, looking a bit limp and falling over his forehead, “Hi,” Jonathan whispered. 

“Hey,” Steve replied, his eyes lowering to the passenger, “Come on inside, I don’t want you to get wet.”

Jonathan’s brows furrowed and he glanced up at the dark sky as a low thrum of thunder sounded. Chuckling, he opened the door and stepped inside of the vehicle, “You a weatherman now?”

“Was already pouring by the time I left my house to come pick you up,” Steve answered, glancing over his shoulder before pulling away from the theater. He turned up the heat in his car, muttering to himself about unreliable meteorologists.

“Explains the hair,” Jonathan grinned, reaching over. He pet the damp locks, feeling the cool strands slide over his fingertips. “I’m surprised you didn’t set it right before coming to pick me up.”

“I didn’t want to make you wait.” Steve chuckled, making a right turn to reach the road leading to the Byers house, “I’m sure it looks ridiculous so feel free to mock me.”

“I never realized how long it is,” Jonathan mused, his fingertips still playing with the soft strands, “All that hair spray usually has it shaped up and back but when it is free like this…it’s so long.” He began to pull his hand back, suddenly hit with the realization that what he was doing could be annoying the older male, “Sorry.”

“No,” Steve murmured, eyes briefly leaving the road to look over at Jonathan, “I like it. You can…you can keep playing with it.”

Jonathan tilted his head, watching the way Steve’s lips quirked, “Well, thank you for the permission,” he teased and Steve laughed, keeping his eyes on the road. 

“You started it,” the older teen pointed out, “and it felt nice, so yeah. Keep going, Byers.” The rest of the drive was peaceful, lovely, really, but Jonathan just couldn’t help the feeling of dread in his heart. 

He had to tell Steve. He had to. 

So lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice that they had pulled up to his house until the passenger side door was opened for him. Blinking, Jonathan stared up into Steve’s charming grin. A light drizzle had picked up, spraying cool bits of water down onto the roof of the car.

“Oh, have you woken up, Dolly Daydream? I’ve only been calling your name for the past two minutes.”

“I’m sorry,” Jonathan sighed, getting out of the car. He grimaced as the mist of water began to pelt his body. “Damn it.”

“Ah, this is nothing, you got off easy,” Steve grinned, “I was the one who got soaked earlier.” And just as he’d finished his sentence, the rain picked up, pouring quite hard and turning his wide grin into a self-deprecating smile.

Jonathan chuckled, “Looks like you’re heading for round two.” He adjusted the collar of his white shirt, pulling the ridiculous little bow-tie free and stuffing it into his pocket before beginning to undo the top button.

When he looked back to Steve, he noticed the way the older teen pretended to not be looking his way.

“So, you’ll be over tomorrow, right?” Steve asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “It’s game night at Casa Harrington, after all.” He winked, “I’ll go easy on you in a game of Connect Four if you agree to come.”

“Generous,” Jonathan murmured, rubbing his hands up and down his slick sleeves, it was rather cold now, “And what if I don’t want you to go easy on me?”

“Trust me,” Steve replied, voice playful, “You’ll want me to go easy on you. I’ll break you in gently, I promise.” Almost as soon as he’d uttered the last part, Steve tensed, bringing a hand up to flick himself in the forehead. “Shit, that sounded dirty, didn’t it?”

Jonathan’s cheeks warmed. He looked up at Steve through wet lashes, completely aware of the sudden knot of desire making itself known in his lower half. It was such an exotic feeling, a stirring that rolled down his abdomen smoothly and then settled so abruptly in his inner thighs that he shivered, a quiet gasp pulling from his throat.

Steve stared back down at him, his own expression heavy and full of heat. Water droplets were sliding down his cheeks and Jonathan’s fingers twitched, itching to reach up and chase away the little bits of water. 

A clap of thunder caused them both to look away and Steve licked his lips, smoothing a hand through his wet mane, while Jonathan forced himself to look down at his shoes. 

“I should get inside,” he whispered, flicking a trickle of trickle of water away from his eyelid. “Have Hopper update me on how my mom is doing.”

“Oh! By the way,” Steve said suddenly before he ducked back inside of his car. 

Jonathan watched, curious, as the older teen muttered a few curses as he rummaged around the backseat. Then, with a triumphant sound, Steve backed out of the car, a bag in his hand and a nervous look on his face. 

“Here.”

The bag was thrust toward his face, and Jonathan took it with a blink, “For me?” 

“Well,” Steve shrugged, “Not really.”

Jonathan tilted his head and then opened the bag. He peeked in, seeing a small package. Gently, he reached down, wrapping his hand around it. It wasn’t very large, fitting into his palm easily, and the brown wrapping paper was lumpy in every corner. Recognizing the shape finally, his heart feeling _full_ , he pulled out the plain, white mug, staring at it in stunned silence.

“You bought my mother a mug.” 

“I know it can’t replace the one she lost but maybe…maybe if Will and El painted on this one and made it pretty, it would make her feel a bit better?”

“You bought my mother a mug.” Jonathan repeated. He looked away from the fragile item, staring up into Steve’s face. 

“Y-yeah,” Steve licked his lips, sheepishly bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck, “After I dropped you off at the theater I went over to that little shop near the corner and picked it up for her. Should I not have? I just wanted to make you feel better and I know that your mom being happy would make _you_ happy so…” he trailed off and swallowed, “I…is that okay?”

Still stunned, Jonathan placed the mug carefully back into the bag. He set the bag down slowly beside his feet, keeping his eyes on the other male all the while. The rain was letting up, now just a small sprinkling with droplets that landed on their faces every now and again.

Steve’s eyes were so wide, so concerned, behind his damp hair. His lips were moving again, saying words, but Jonathan wasn’t listening anymore. He tried to read those lips, to understand at least a bit more of what Steve was saying, but Jonathan couldn’t focus on anything other than the fluttering of his own heart. It was irregular. Beating faster and slower…almost at the same time. 

This wasn’t the first time his heart had reacted to Steve this way. But it was definitely the first time that his body had decided to take action. 

“Are you upset with me? I’m-”

“ _Steve,_ ” Jonathan interrupted, his hands coming up to touch the taller boy’s jaw. He leaned his weight just a bit on his toes and tilted his head upwards, “Shut up.” His eyes drifted closed just as his lips settled over Steve’s.

Steve’s reaction was immediate, his own hands reaching out to settle over Jonathan’s hips, and he turned his head just slightly so that their lips met at a better angle. He moved his weight onto the heels of his feet, leaning back against his car and gently tugging Jonathan against his wet body, but keeping his head dipped downwards to never break their kiss.

His tongue quickly moved to Jonathan’s lips, silently demanding entry that Jonathan gave with a soft exhale, barely-there rivulets of water seeping down their faces to caress at their fused mouths. Jonathan shuddered, his fingers curling over Steve’s cheeks, as the taller boy pulled him closer and dominated the kiss.

Steve kissed like…like he was _giving_ everything he had. His kisses were fueled by emotion; firm but so passionate, pouring all of his being into that kiss, openly offering all of him and whatever else he could find with this action.

His kisses were so different from-

_Billy._

Jonathan’s entire body stiffened and he broke the kiss with Steve abruptly, ducking his head when Steve made a small sound of disappointment, and hiding his face in Steve’s shoulder like a coward.

“Hey,” Steve murmured, his thumbs rubbing at Jonathan’s hips, “What’s wrong?”

_’Tell him. God damn it, just TELL him.’_ “Steve,” Jonathan started, and he hated how his voice was so pathetically small. If it had still been raining, Steve would probably never have even heard him. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Steve shifted, and Jonathan flinched when he felt long fingers curl around his chin, gently moving his face upwards so that they were looking each other in the eyes. Steve’s thumb traced the dimple on his chin and Jonathan had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from breaking down again as Steve waited patiently for him to speak. 

“It-it’s about Billy-”

“Billy?” just mentioning the name had Steve’s expression darkening, “What about him? Did that son of a bitch do something to you?”

“No, _no,_ ” Jonathan said, alarmed with Steve’s vehemence, “You need to know-”

The sound of a door opening with a high squeak caused their heads to turn in unison and Jonathan’s cheeks colored as Hopper, wearing a bright red robe decorated with stars, stared out at them from the porch. Jonathan took a step away from Steve, who straightened up and played with the damp lapels of his jacket, waving a hand over at Hopper.

“Hey, chief,” Steve said, his own face a bit pink, “Um…nice robe.”

“Harrington,” Hopper inclined his head, a rather un-amused look on his face, “Shouldn’t you be at home? It’s a school night.”

“Right,” Steve coughed, scrambling for an excuse, “I was just dropping Jonathan off from work.” He clicked his tongue, reaching over to place a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder, “So, uh….goodnight, man.”

Jonathan stared at him and Steve stared back, clearly unsure of how to continue. 

Sighing, Jonathan looked away, “Thanks for the ride, Steve,” he murmured finally, moving to walk towards the porch. A hand circling around his wrist stopped him and Jonathan turned his head to see Steve eyeing him with worry. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

Jonathan swallowed, the action so difficult that for a brief and very frightening second, it seemed as though he had forgotten how to do it and nearly had made himself look like a complete freak. Smiling weakly, he nodded, not trusting himself to speak. 

Steve’s smile in return was beautiful and hopeful.

It made Jonathan feel like he wasn’t worthy. 

_Because I’m not worthy of you, Steve._

\--

Wednesday night was approaching quickly. 

During school, he and Nancy had spent a good while with Jonathan but both were quick to notice how quiet he was being. Waving off their concerns, Jonathan stated that he hadn’t gotten much sleep because Hoppers’ snores were so loud that he could hear them all the way to his room.

Then, during lunch, Jonathan had disappeared. Nancy pointed out that he may be in school’s dark room but it was empty when they had checked. It wasn’t until after school that they saw him again. He was sitting on the trunk of his car, an opened book on his lap, and he seemed to be reading aloud.

But he wasn’t alone. 

Hargrove was beside him, his elbow pressed up against Jonathan’s knee, and his eyes were closed as he leaned onto his arms against the Ford, listening to whatever Jonathan was reading. Occasionally, his eyes would open for a few seconds, just to watch Jonathan’s lips, before they would close again. 

Steve _hated_ how peaceful they looked.

“At least Billy isn’t being problematic,” Nancy whispered and Steve frowned, “It’s almost as if Jonathan calms him.” 

The very idea of it put Steve on edge and he grit his teeth, “Come on,” he muttered, turning away from the sight of them, “I’ve got to get to practice.”

Later, after he had dropped Nancy off from debate club, and showered off the grueling baseball practice grime, he had called to ask her if she would need to be picked up for game night. “Oh, Steve, I can’t tonight. My parents are going out and since Mike is going to be at your place, I need to stay with Holly.”

So, Nancy Wheeler would be out and now the entire pack was going to have only two chaperones. Him and Jonathan. And maybe, if he could keep the little shits distracted well enough, he could sneak off to his bedroom with Jonathan and they could take a good nap.

But in order to distract a pack of six annoying brats, Steve needed to keep them happy and entertained. What made kids happy and kept them entertained? Junk food and games, obviously, and because Nancy couldn’t join him, Steve decided to dial up the next best thing. 

“What do you think Jonathan’s favorite sweet is?” Steve stared at the wall of candy, his brows furrowed, “He likes vanilla ice cream, did you know? But what kind of _candy_ would he like?” he brushed his thumb over his lower lip in thought, turning a confused frown over to Dustin, who simply stared up at him blankly, “What?”

“How the hell should I know what kind of candy he likes?” Dustin muttered, turning to look at the candy wall. His eyes brightened and he reached out, immediately grabbing a few bags of M&M’s and skittles, “Can I get these?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Steve brushed him off, still frowning thoughtfully as he gazed at the candy. “Seriously, have you ever heard Will talk about what Jonathan snacks on? Or maybe El has said something?”

“Will and El have barely talked about Jonathan these past few months. Actually, it’s a bit better now, because he’s been home more, but there was a time where Will didn’t even _see_ Jonathan for several days because of his new job.” Dustin grabbed a box of Ho-Ho’s and dropped it into the basket sitting at Steve’s feet.

_That’s right._ Steve remembered, chewing on the inside of his cheek. The night job that Jonathan was still so tight-lipped about, the very one that had him bruised and so melancholy. 

He had forgotten, giving the recent developments. 

Dustin was going on and on about how Twinkies had changed their recipe and how they didn’t taste the same as before but Steve was only half listening. He was thinking back to last night and remembering just how soft Jonathan’s lips had been when they’d kissed. 

When Jonathan initiated it, there had been no hesitation on his own part. It almost seemed like he was _meant_ to kiss the chestnut-blonde boy. Like they were supposed to be kissing. Supposed to be together. 

“Oh!” Dustin suddenly cried out and Steve blinked hard, looking down at the kid, “Cherries. I remember now, one time Will had managed to save up enough money to buy Jonathan a birthday gift so he got these cherry filled chocolate things. Will told us about how Jonathan actually likes cherry flavored stuff. That’s weird, isn’t it? Most people think it tastes like medicine but Jonathan is kind of fond of it.”

“Yeah?” Steve’s eyes scoured the wall and he finally reached out, choosing some sort of chocolate squares. The advertisement picture on the front depicted a corner of a chocolate square bitten off and some gooey red liquid inside. Cherry filling.

“That looks disgusting,” Dustin declared at once but he was smiling, “A weird flavor but it’s kind of fitting. Jonathan is a bit weird.”

“And you’re not?” Steve huffed, picking up the basket and groaning at the amount of candy inside, “Sheesh, get something for everyone?”

“Well, yeah. We all have different tastes.”

“Expensive brats,” Steve grumbled. They made their way to the front of the store to pay, and Dustin stumbled to the side when he was bumped into, Steve immediately holding out a hand to steady the boy while simultaneously glaring at the back of the guy who had bumped him, “Hey, watch where you’re going, asshole.”

The guy turned and Steve tensed, staring into narrowed blue eyes. 

Billy Hargrove glanced down at Dustin, who shrank back meekly. His lips curling, Billy swept his gaze back to Steve. “So sorry,” he drawled, “but maybe this is why you should have kept him outside. They don’t allow pets in the store, after all.”

Gritting his teeth, Steve handed Dustin the basket of candy and stepped closer to Billy, who met him half-way. They stared each other down and though Steve had known the weight of Billy’s fists, he wasn’t at all intimidated.

“Get lost, Hargrove.”

“Unlikely,” Billy murmured, keeping his cool gaze locked on Steve, “Due to our shared interest, I’m sure we’ll be seeing much more of each other than we want to.” His nose wrinkled. “It’s unfortunate, really.”

“Shared interest?” It took a moment to register and Steve clenched his fists once he understood what Billy meant. “Jonathan.”

“Jonathan,” Billy confirmed with a half-smile. “I’ve promised to be civil, just because he’s asked me to be.” Blue eyes glinted, “But I’m warning you, Harrington, don’t fucking push me. Even if you don’t like it, you’d better get used to the idea.”

“What fucking idea?” Something itched in Steve’s chest. A weird feeling of something clawing inside him and trying to reach the surface. He was angry. He was annoyed. He was jealous.

Billy stared at him silently for a moment. Then, his face darkened. “He hasn’t told you.” He stated, sucking his teeth. “He hasn’t fucking told you yet.”

“Told me _what_?” Steve’s palms were beginning to tingle, and then he remembered last night, when Jonathan had been meaning to tell him something about the very person standing in front of him now, “Did you do something to him, Hargrove? If you touched him, I swear to God-”

Billy chuckled. “ _Touched_ him,” he echoed, a slow grin settling on his face, “Sure. You could say that.” And then he licked his lips and Steve’s jaw clenched so hard that it started to hurt.

He moved to step closer to the slimy bastard but Dustin quickly intercepted him. 

“Steve, no,” the younger teen said, pushing his hands up to Steve’s chest, “Come on, let’s just leave. Please.” He pushed Steve back, glancing behind to see Billy simply watching them in amusement. 

Steve pointed at the blonde, “This isn’t over, Hargrove.” He said, even as he let Dustin lead him away towards the counter. 

“No,” Steve heard Billy say from behind him, “I’m sure it isn’t.”

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, wow, I got my shit all mixed up out of order bc work has been murdering me. Sorreh.


End file.
